Half of Boston:01
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: Life in the mirror world
1. Chapter One

**TITLE:**  _Half of Boston_

**PAIRING:**  _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Phillip Broyles_

**GENRE:**  _Dark_

**RATING:**  _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _1987_

**WARNINGS:** _Language, nudity_

**SPOILERS:**  _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  _I missed 1.20 so I wrote this to occupy my time._

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:**   _none_

* * *

"Walter."

The man in bed beside her made no sound, still lost somewhere in his dreams.

"Walter," she said again, emphasising his name and elbowing him roughly in the side.

"What?" he grunted, rolling away from her.

She sat up, resting back on her elbows. "Where's your cell phone?"

"I dunno," he mumbled, spooning one of her down pillows.

"Did you leave it in the living room?" she asked, not seeing his phone next to hers on the nightstand.

In the darkness of the room, the light coming in through the sole window cast a pale, ethereal glow about their bedroom. In the past few months she'd become accustomed to working in the dark and she could see perfectly fine.

"Probably. I don't really care. I was dreaming of owning my own soda fountain."

"That's great," she said rolling her eyes, "but I think it's ringing."

"Then go answer it," he said, sounding annoyed.

Astrid gave a dramatic sigh to let him know how irritated she was that she had to retrieve the phone she had told him a thousand times he was supposed to take to bed with him. Because her mattress was against the wall, it meant she had to crawl over his pyjama'd form to get off the bed and that meant he was going to act like a spoiled brat as she climbed over him. Indeed he writhed a bit and made noises of discomfort, but she had long since gotten past the guilty feelings of disrupting his sleep.

Her shit apartment was comfortably small for just one person, but the second Peter decided his father was just too much to handle and left him on her doorstep, chez Astrid had become miserably cramped. The queen size mattress that had once seemed luxuriously large was now crowded feeling, especially because Walter liked to sprawl out as the hot summer months were approaching. She had no idea how he could wear clothes to bed as she simply went to bed wearing Chanel 5 like Marilyn Monroe did—it was just too hot to wear anything more!

In the living room she found the now quiet cell phone still lit up on the coffee table and she lifted it up to check the screen.

_One Missed Call._

Astrid gave another irritated sigh and clicked button that said "view" and saw the Olivia had called.

"Assistant!" Walter hollered from the bedroom. "Your damn phone is dancing around on the nightstand! Do something!"

Astrid dashed back into the bedroom and grabbed her cell phone. She saw the caller ID and groaned.

"Olivia. It's three in the morning," she greeted.

The other woman's smoky voice sounded exhausted. "I need you to get Walter ready. There's been another attack."

She looked over at the scientist in her bed. "Give me ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

"I'll send the directions to your phone," Olivia said before hanging up.

Astrid grumbled as she took her firearm off the windowsill at the foot of the bed and pulled her belt holster off the dresser. Slipping on panties and a camisole, she returned to the bed. She gently placed a kiss on Walter's cheek and smoothed the curls along his forehead. "Hey, you need to get up. There's been another attack."

"Get me my chinos," he mumbled.

She shook her head. "They're in the laundry."

"Get me my chinos."

Astrid had in fact been wearing the same pair of jeans for the past five days, but she wore lots of perfume to help block out the stench of death in the air and Walter had a tendency to wipe mustard on his own clothes, making it harder for him to re-wear things after one use. Today she decided it was finally time to put on a new pair of pants so she opted to put on a pair of herringbone slacks that didn't match anything she owned. It was too early in the morning to argue with him so she decided to make a compromise instead of fight with him.

She dug through the laundry to find the pants he wanted. "Fine, but you're wearing a clean shirt."

He didn't move. "Deal."

"Get up, Walter," she insisted as she tossed the chinos onto the bed.

"I want one of those protein shakes. A vanilla one." He sat up. "Will you put almonds in it?"

She began to button up her white oxford. "Yes, but I need you to get out of bed and put on your clothes."

"You have to give me another kiss," he demanded.

"Walter, please. No games this morning," Astrid begged.

"I want a hardboiled egg, too," Walter huffed, sounding hurt that she wasn't going to continue playing.

"Okay, now get dressed."

Astrid hurried out of the their bedroom to the kitchen, buttoning her left cuff as she went over to the cabinet that held the insulated lunch box she packed every morning for the two of them. She moved to the fridge and pulled out two of the bottled protein shakes, removing the top off one of the drinks and set them on wobbly card table that served as the dining room. She then selected two large oranges and two peanut butter and jam sandwiches she'd made up the night before and slipped them into the lunch box. From the freezer she removed an ice pack and from the spice rack on the counter she found her bottle of chopped almonds. She poured a tablespoon of almonds into the open drink, put the cap back on and used a permanent marker to label the bottle with a large "W". She placed the drinks into the lunch box, zipped the top closed and returned to the bedroom.

Walter was sitting on the edge of the mattress, completely dressed, save for socks and shoes. He wiggled his toes at her as she pulled on her socks and took her boots out from under the bed.

"Where are my socks?" he asked curiously.

She crouched down to tie up her bootlaces. "Same place they were yesterday."

She heard him go to the dresser and a drawer opened, but when he returned to her side, he offered out a small pale pink object in the palm of his hand. "This is for you."

She tilted his hand to see the object in the moonlight coming in through the window and her eyes widened in surprise. "You found my button."

"It was under the fridge. I found it when I was cleaning the kitchen."

She stood up and kissed him on the cheek for a second time that morning. "Thank you."

Astrid slipped the button into her pocket and found her gaiters that slid over her boots and up to her knees under her slacks. Walter put on his socks and boots as well, putting on his own gaiters under his chinos.

"Did you put almonds in my drink?" he asked as he finished strapping the hard plastic around his shins.

She retrieved their Kevlar from the closet. "Of course."

"I'm ready to go," he announced happily. "Do you think Peter will be there?"

"Absolutely," she said as she strapped her vest over her chest. "And I'm sure he'll be excited to see you. Why don't you get that book you wanted to bring him?"

"Where did we put it?" he asked as she put his Kevlar vest on him.

"Check the coffee table," she said, letting him go.

They moved into the living room and while Walter searched for the book he'd bought his son, Astrid collected their lunch box and finally strapped on her side holster, feeling very powerful with the added weight on the left side of her hip.

"Found it!" he sang and she held out her handbag for him to place it in.

"Okay, let's go."

In front of the apartment door was a solid armoire they'd loaded down with heavy books and barbells; it took the two of them to move the large piece of furniture out of the way and both of them always managed to make a nervous joke that if something happened to one of them, they wouldn't be able to get out of the apartment…

Astrid unlocked the three deadbolts and once they stepped out the door, she felt her cell phone vibrate, indicating Olivia had just sent over the directions to the scene. Walter began digging through the lunch box to find his shake as she relocked the apartment door.

"I need more undershirts. This Kevlar chafes my nipples." Walter began to shake the plastic bottle with his name violently.

She recalled the first week she had worn her bulletproof vest without two shirts underneath and grimaced. "I know what you mean."

"We need to go grocery shopping, too. Can we ask Peter to come?"

Astrid wasn't going to hold her breath. "If he wants to."

In the underground parking garage, the large black government plated Suburban blinked its lights as she unlocked it with the remote on the keychain Walter had found on the ground well over six months ago.

As they climbed inside, Astrid glanced over at her passenger and said, "Co-pilot, I'm going to read you the directions and you're going to put them into the GPS, okay?"

Walter saluted. "Aye-aye, matey."

She read the address off her cell phone and Walter dutifully punched in the correct keys to illustrate the map on the GPS unit.

"Tah-dah!"

Astrid started up the Suburban. "Let's rock and roll!"

The large vehicle rolled heavily on the streets of Boston. Armor plating and bullet resistant glass made Astrid feel much safer out driving since the Outbreak. She glanced over at Walter and smiled, watching him bounce happily in his seat to the music. It didn't matter that it was still early in the morning—the streets were always seemed to be mostly devoid of cars, just the occasional taxi or military truck.

Or of course, an ambulance.

At the scene she saw that Peter Bishop was already there, chatting up Agent Broyles and Olivia. They too were wearing their FSU emblazoned Kevlar and looked relieved to see that she had arrived with Walter. Off in the distance of the freeway tunnel they were in, she could see a white sheet covering a body.

"Peter!" Walter cried happily and ran over towards his son.

Peter gave him an awkward embrace. "Hey, Walter. How are you?"

"I'm fine! I have a gift for you," Walter said, rummaging through her handbag to produce Erich von Däniken's "Chariots of the Gods?"

The younger Bishop looked a little startled. "Oh, thank you."

Agent Broyles motioned for Walter. "Dr. Bishop, if you'll come with me."

Walter followed Broyles and Olivia, leaving Astrid alone with gave her a weak smile and asked politely,

"How've you been?"

She shrugged and decided to be honest. "Good. Sweaty. And you?"

"I'm getting better." He looked over to his father, who was with Olivia and Broyles, assessing the damage. "How's Walter?"

She wished she could be a bitch about it, but she understood why he abandoned his father to her. "He misses you. But I make sure he's feed and doesn't miss too many SpongeBob episodes."

Over by the incredibly mauled body, Walter gave a delighted laugh. "Ooh, Assistant! Come look at this man! He's wearing women's _underwear_!"

* * *

They returned to the apartment five hours later, at exactly eight-twelve. It was considerably cooler inside and after they pushed the armoire back into place in front of the door, they proceeded to undress once more, removing their soiled and bloody clothes. As they made their way back to the bedroom, they fumbled their hands over one another, they kissed possessively…but the moment they fell onto the mattress, they both seemed to be thinking the same thing. His body still flush against hers, they pulled the sheets up over them as they fell into a dead sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

**TITLE:**  _Chapter Two_

**PAIRING:**  _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, _

**GENRE:**  _Dark_

**RATING:**  _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _2012_

**WARNINGS:** _Language, nudity_

**SPOILERS:**  _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  _I missed 1.20 so I wrote this to occupy my time._

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:**   _none_

* * *

Astrid woke up many hours later to Walter singing along with her old ACDC vinyl in the kitchen and the sound of rain falling. There was a rich smell of baking oranges and chicken and she gave a content sigh. _'Happiness is Walter singing "Back in Black",'_ she thought blissfully as she sat up in bed, looking out the window. Boston was so lovely when it rained; the scent of decay was washed away from the city's air, the constant overcast became less sinister, and it was noise that blocked out the overwhelming dead silence.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and she lay back down, pretending she was asleep. The door creaked open and she could hear him softly call out,

"Lamb?"

She didn't move and she kept her eyes squeezed shut as she heard his bare feet padding across the bedroom floor. A moment later she felt the edge of the bed sag and his breath across the back of her neck.

"Wake up," he whispered softly, his fingers plucking at the ribbon strap of her camisole.

She gave no response and he pressed his lips to her temple as he began poking her belly. "Wake up."

She buried her face in the pillow so he wouldn't see her grinning. This was a game they often played on the days they could sleep in. One or the other would pester the person in bed until they couldn't pretend any further. Walter always won once he began tickling her.

"Wake up," he growled as his fingers began to play across the sensitive skin of her sides.

She couldn't hold back the squeals of laughter and began to wriggle as he cornered her against the wall.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" she shrieked, fighting his hands.

He released her mercifully and she rolled onto her back to look at him.

"I'm cooking in the kitchen. Come help me," he said and stood up from the mattress.

"Okay," she said breathlessly, watching him walk out of the bedroom.

Astrid stretched, twisting around in the sheets for a moment before jumping out of bed and leaving for the kitchen. She found Walter at the stove roasting small cuts of chicken and chopping up canned green chili peppers.

"If you want, I can set up the washtub," he offered, glancing at the camisole and underwear she was wearing.

"We still need to fix the wringer," she said, honestly not feeling up to washing clothes. She peeked over his shoulder at the food he was cooking. "Wow, this looks really great."

"It's Peter Night."

She cursed silently as she glanced up at the kitchen calendar. _'Is it Thursday already?'_ she thought, her buoyant mood gone entirely.

"Ah. How could I forget," she said blandly.

Walter didn't seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm in regards to his son. "I'm going to make fajitas. Peter likes those."

She looked over his ingredients and asked, "Would you like me to make the salsa?"

"Yes. And I thought you could wear that purple dress? You look so nice in it."

She nodded. "Sure."

He placed a handful of chopped peppers into the pan with the chicken."And would you mind getting that liquid paper off my dress shoes?"

"I'll try." Suddenly feeling very gritty, she declared, "I'm going to go take a shower."

"Make sure you save the water for—"

"For laundry, I know."

"Do you need someone to wash your back?" he blurted out and she turned to look at him, a little surprised.

A playful smile crossed her lips and she pointed to the chicken in the pot. "You should watch the food."

He began to quickly turn off the stove and oven as he used one hand to start unbuttoning his shirt. "Maybe I have to let it cool."

She wriggled her eyebrows at him and swayed her hips slightly as she walked to the bathroom. Walter wasn't far behind.

* * *

When Astrid was eleven, she announced to her mother and her aunts that she would never be a single mother or have a Baby Daddy. She had been so disgusted with her cousins and the neighborhood girls and wanted no part of that crap! And now here she was, receiving "child support" and demanding that Peter come and visit the man that was both their responsibility.

Peter arrived at promptly six-thirty as he always did on Thursdays and the third and fourth Sunday of every month. He always brought gifts with him and this evening he had brought her the most recent New York Times and Walter three oranges with small gold star stickers on them. Astrid was wearing the purple satin party dress she wore every time he came over for dinner and Walter was dressed to the nines. It looked like Peter had even shaved for the event.

"Astrid," Peter greeted politely after they moved the armoire back into place.

"Good evening. Thank you for the paper," she said and they hugged awkwardly.

Walter was wiggling in place, a large dopey grin on his face as he waited patiently for his turn, his sports jacket pockets bulging from the oranges.

"Hey, Walter," Peter said a little more warmly, hugging his father as well.

As they parted from their embrace, Walter danced over to the stove. "We're so happy you could come, Peter! How was your drive?"

Peter shrugged. "Uneventful. Only one ambulance passing towards the north."

Peter's hand met hers for the briefest of moments and she palmed the money he slipped her. Just because he had abandoned his father to her didn't mean he didn't care. The money he provided made it much easier to support Walter's sometimes expensive needs. And it was also comforting to know that if she and Dr. Bishop ever had to evacuate, they would have the resources to do so.

"We're having fajitas! You like those!" Walter said happily as he began to take plates out of the cabinet and serve up their dinner.

Peter nodded and surveyed the kitchen. "That sounds pretty good. Anything I can help with?"

The scientist waved him away. "No, no. You just sit down and let my assistant get you something to drink."

At the word "assistant" Peter's whole body language shifted to that of discomfort and Astrid gritted her jaw as she poured him a glass of lemonade from the fridge. Peter hadn't been happy to discover that Astrid and Walter's relationship had become more than friends but she had told him very bluntly that at least his father was getting the love he deserved. Peter really hadn't been able to argue against that. However, this didn't stop him from showing is disapproval of the arrangement.

Walter placed a plate for Peter and one for Astrid, finally sitting down at the table with a plate for himself. The younger Bishop and Astrid began spooning sour cream, guacamole, and salsa onto their plates, ready to tuck in when Walter cleared his throat and gave Astrid a pointed look.

"Say grace, please."

Astrid sighed and the three joined hands. Walter had explained to her once that he wanted to make their dinners together more familial and when Peter was growing up they used to give a prayer before every meal.

"Hail Great Cthulhu, Almighty Sleeping God," she said quickly and released both men's hands.

Walter beamed at her. "Thank you, my dear. That was beautiful."

Peter attacked the fajitas two at a time and she wondered if he was eating properly. He looked okay, but Peter was the type of person who would hide any sign of weakness until his last breath, so she made the mental note to pack him a container of leftovers to take home with them. He looked up at her and gave a weak smile that she returned; she picked at her food and wondered if possibly in another world they were friends.

* * *

Astrid closed her eyes and made a content noise as Walter gently placed a string of soft kisses along the nape of her neck. It was eleven o'clock, their designated bedtime and she was thankful that Peter had left early this evening, because dealing with the dead body earlier this morning had exhausted her.

Walter's arms were wrapped comfortably around her waist and she could feel the buttons on the front of his pyjama shirt lightly pressing against her spine. To her relief it was still raining and they'd cracked open the window slightly to let in the cool air, so they'd pulled the sheets over themselves.

"Have I ever told you the time I brought my son back to life?" he murmured softly as he played with a coil of her hair.

"Tell it to me again," she breathed.

It was an eerie story, one that made her skin crawl, but she found that it was therapeutic for Walter to narrate. His fingers stroked along her skin.

"Walter-on-the-Otherside had just lost his Peter to the illness, but instead of telling Peter's-Mother-on-the-Otherside, he hid the body in the garage and opened the Rift. He entered and demanded my Peter, my beloved son. I refused. A good father should be willing to fight to the death."

She ran her fingertips over his knuckles. "Of course. You're a good father, Walter."

He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "But I knew how he felt. So I offered a trade. His Peter for mine. I knew I could cure him. Walter-on-the-Otherside didn't trust me, but he didn't have a choice so he crossed through the Rift once more to bring me the body of our son…"

She could feel warm tears on her shoulders and the body behind her trembling. He held her tighter and she lovingly placed her hands over his.

"He was only seven," he insisted.

"I know."

"At the time, Belly and I had just developed the Body Suspension Cocoons so we were able to keep Peter-who-was-Dead from decomposing further. He had only been gone for an hour when he was given to me…"

She could feel him fiercely planting kisses on her neck again.

"Belly…clever, clever Belly was able to make a cure after a week, something neither I, nor Walter-on-the-Otherside, could do. Then we began the process of resuscitation."

They were silent for a moment and Astrid wondered if he had forgotten the rest of the story, but as if he heard her thoughts, he continued.

"Peter's mother was furious at what I had done. Trading her Peter for a broken body." One of his hands rested on her stomach. "I tried to explain that I had to do it, that I had to help Walter-on-the-Otherside, that I could help my other son, something he couldn't do. But I brought that little boy back from the dead. It was then, when I breathed new life in him, that I knew there was no God." He gave a defeated sigh. "How could a mere mortal like I do a job that only He should be able to do?"

Another kiss to her neck. "I never told him. Only Belly and Peter's mother knew." He quickly added. "And of course, you."

Astrid listened to the rain for a moment before asking, "Does Walter-on-the-Otherside know that his Peter is alive?"

"No. He mourns his loss every day." Walter buried his face in her curls and breathed deeply. "Maybe that's why this Peter doesn't feel loyalty to me. Because the invisible bonds pull him towards his other father."

"Oh, Walter. It's not because of that." She rolled over in his arms slightly so she could look at him. "Peter is just having a hard time dealing. Having you brought back into his life, having Tess die in the Outbreak, conflicting feelings for Olivia…He's just a young man overwhelmed."

He didn't seem so convinced. "If you say so."

She kissed the tip of his nose. "Let's get some sleep."

She rolled over so they returned to their original positions and he murmured softly, "I'll see you in the morning."


	3. Chapter Three

**TITLE:**  _Chapter Three_

**PAIRING:**  _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, _

**GENRE:**  _Dark_

**RATING:**  _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _1782_

**WARNINGS:** _Language, second hand smoke?_

**SPOILERS:**  _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  _I missed 1.20 so I wrote this to occupy my time._

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:**   _none_

* * *

Astrid had her feet kicked up on the desk, phone to her ear. She was on hold with the CDC in Atlanta, trying to get a list of paperwork that had been sent to their office in the past week so that she could keep her files organised. She was currently waiting for a seventh person to come on the line to get a hold of one single person who simply had to fax one stupid piece of paper. At the moment only she and Walter were in the office, everyone else off on their lunch break.

Someone on the other end picked up and Astrid quickly blurted out, "Hi! Special Agent Astrid Farnsworth, Fringe Science Unit. I'm calling for a—"

"Hold, please," the voice on the other end and she sighed as she was forced listen to muzak yet again.

She looked over at Walter who was walking around the office with a water bottle filled with orange juice balanced on his head. It didn't have a lid on it and she knew that that was an accident waiting to happen.

"Walter, set that down," she ordered, pointing to her desk surface.

He waved his hand at her, protesting. "I'm trying to set a world record."

She frowned. "Well, you can try at home. If you spill that—"

The water bottle toppled off his head and the sound of orange juice spilling over the floor made her pause. He looked up from the floor back to her and gave her a sheepish grin.

"Oops."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Get out the paper towels and clean it up—"

The muzak over the phone stopped and someone spoke. "Hello, this is Connie Darwin in Information Resources."

She dropped her feet off the desk as Walter began to rummage through the bottom drawer for paper towel. "Hi! Special Agent Astrid Farnsworth, Fringe Science Unit. I'm calling for a Mr. Benjamin Hold."

"He's in a meeting right now. Can I take a message?" the woman said flatly.

Astrid crossed her fingers, hoping that she wasn't being blown off. "I'm calling to request that a list of all the recent paper work sent to us in the past week. He was supposed to fax us one last Wednesday, but we never received it."

"I'll have one faxed to you by the end of the day," the woman assured and Astrid sighed in relief.

"Thank you. Have a nice day," she said, actually meaning it.

"You, too."

Astrid hung up the phone and smiled. Today was turning out pretty good for a Monday. Agent Olivia Dunham threw open the doors to the office and as she and Peter Bishop strutted inside, she gave a jolly,

"Celebration cigars for everyone!"

Dunham went to her desk and pulled out the box of Havanas that she had stashed, passing them around for everyone to partake in. Astrid happily accepted one, finding a lighter in her top drawer after she cut the tip. Walter abandoned his cleaning of the orange juice and sat on the edge of her desk as he chewed on his cigar, tossing his wet paper towels onto her paperwork in the box labeled "Out".

Astrid kicked her feet back up on the desk, leaned back in her chair, and folded her hands behind her head as Peter took the lighter off her desk.

"What's the occasion?" she asked, her teeth clenched around her cigar.

Olivia lit up her cigar and Astrid was momentarily reminded of Kevin Cosner as Elliot Ness in that movie about Al Capone. "The lab has been able to successfully replicate the orange oil formula Walter made. They'll be spending the next week making about a gallon's worth to test the effectiveness of a large quantity batch."

Almost speechless, Astrid mustered an, "Oh cool!"

Olivia looked pretty smug. "We won't be going public with the information for a while until we're entirely sure. Then we'll crop dust the fuck out of Boston!"

"I though Broyles was going to get mad if we kept smoking these in here," Peter said, exhaling a ring of smoke.

"Do you suggest we go outside?" Olivia said, then removed the cigar from her mouth and looked at it in a confused manner.

"Hell no, but I'm tired of his stupid 'second hand smoke kills' lecture. I mean, we're talking about the largest epidemic in US history and he's worried about a little tobacco?"

"Walter, we'll have to go out for pizza," Astrid said to the older man, who was still grinding his unlit cigar between his teeth. "Peter, you wanna come with us? Your dad and I wouldn't mind help finishing off a meat lover's pizza."

Olivia suddenly let out a burst of laughter and the three looked at her; Astrid was somewhat confused at what she thought was so funny and gave Olivia a questioning look.

"Well, shouldn't you be asking Peter for permission to tag along?" she said.

"Tag along?" Astrid made a face. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I'm sure Peter would appreciate some time away from Walter—"

Olivia stopped talking as she looked at their baffled expressions.

"Olivia…Walter doesn't live with me anymore," Peter said slowly.

"What…" Olivia fidgeted slightly. "Where does he stay then?"

"He's being watched," Peter mumbled, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"By who?"

Astrid was bewildered at Dunham's sudden confusion. "_Me_."

Olivia's eyes became huge. "With _you_?"

"She's a wonderful kisser," Walter admitted dreamily.

Olivia looked horrified and glanced between Peter and Astrid. "What…is he talking about?"

"Shit, Liv," Astrid hissed. "Don't make me spell it out!"

"You two…?" she motioned between her and Walter.

"Who are you?" the scientist asked suspiciously.

"Walter," Astrid and Peter chastised at the same time.

Olivia's demeanour suddenly returned to her usual upbeat self as though she were a completely different person. "Hey, we should celebrate. Maybe with pizza. Meat lover's sound okay?"

Once again, the three looked at her oddly and Peter asked slowly, "Are you feeling okay?"

She crushed the cigar tip into the surface of her desk and grinned. "I'm feeling fucking fabulous. That oil may not be a cure, but it's the best thing we've got."

"Okay," Astrid said with a nod. "We can order a pizza."

Walter smiled at her. "Pizza twice in one day? Excellent!"

Dunham raised an eyebrow. "Twice?"

"Walter and I…oh, never mind," she grumbled and fished the pizzeria's menu out of her top drawer and passed it over to Olivia.

* * *

Last September when the Outbreak first started showing up in Boston, Astrid's mother and aunts suggested she come back home to Pennsylvania, but she refused. Astrid had been one of the first women to get assigned to the Patriot League Division of the FBI, not to mention she was one of the youngest special agents assigned to the PLD over all, so her pride kept her from seeking safety with her family. Then to be moved from the PLD to the elite Fringe Science Unit? Astrid was in absolute heaven career-wise, something she wasn't about to give up. After all, she'd just gained her reputation from the _McNeery vs. Boston_ case and to lose that because she played it safe? Not a chance.

"Walter, I swear to god, knock it off," she growled as Walter continued bothering a silk plant on the restaurant booth's wall.

"It's _bugging_ me!" he whined.

She swatted his hand away from the tacky fake plant. "Leave it alone."

"You said Peter would be here already," he complained, rolling his straw wrapper into a tight ball on the tabletop.

"I thought he would be."

"Maybe he's stuck in traffic," he joked and they both laughed. Flicking the wrapper at her, he asked quietly, "Did Olivia seem different to you today?"

Astrid thought for a moment. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing. Maybe I'm just going crazy," he said and grinned at her.

She laughed and took his hands in hers. "You're an absolute genius, you know."

He squeezed her fingers gently. "Am I? I didn't realise."

"Don't be silly. Or modest. You're a genius. You may have figured out what's going to get the Outbreak under control."

"We can only hope," he muttered darkly then looking past her, cried out, "Peter!"

Peter sat down in the booth next to his father. "Have you guys already ordered the pizza?"

Astrid could tell he was in a fairly good mood this evening. "Yes."

"The waitress is going to bring us bread sticks and orange slices!" Walter said happily.

"Oranges slices. Jesus, it's not scurvy," Peter snapped, shaking red pepper flakes into his hand.

"But it's been shown that oranges seem to help ward it off," Astrid pointed out.

"We ought to carry pockets full of poesies while we're at it," he grumbled, putting the flakes in his mouth.

"I'm going to get a tattoo for the evil eye," she said, winking at him.

Walter on the other hand hadn't realised that she was joking and flew into a discussion of magical symbols to ward off illness not stopping until the pizza arrived.

Peter smirked as he bit into his own slice of pizza. "Walter, she wasn't serious."

He looked slightly disappointed. "Oh. I was hoping you'd have something to go along with your barcode."

Astrid watched Peter's hand unconsciously go up to his left upper arm, the same place she had her government issued identification marker.

"Well, I'm sure if ink would really keep that shit at bay, I'll let you think of something to put along with my barcode," she said kindly.

"I don't like mine," Walter murmured darkly, a bit of grease on his chin.

Astrid reached across the table and dabbed the vibrant orange runoff of the pepperoni off his face, smiling. "Such is the life of a government employee. It's unpatriotic to talk like that."

"In the Otherside they don't brand their employees," Walter grumbled, rubbing at his own upper arm where his tattoo was.

Peter and Astrid gave snickering laughs and exchanged glances as they tried to wrap their minds around the concept.

Peter gently nudged his father with his elbow. "And next you'll tell us that they simply rely on social security numbers and photo IDs."

"They do!" Walter insisted.

Astrid smiled at him fondly—she never got tired of listening to his wild fantasies. "Walter, that's so inefficient. Identities would be stolen like crazy!"

"And they do!"

She sighed. "C'mon and finish your pizza. I think you're tired and need to get some sleep."

"I'm not crazy," he said, looking incredibly disgruntled.

Astrid knew it would make Peter uncomfortable, but reached out and touched the scientist's hand anyway. "No, just a genius."


	4. Chapter Four

**TITLE:**  _Chapter Four_

**PAIRING:**  _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Charlie Francis_

**GENRE:**  _Dark_

**RATING:**  _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:**

**WARNINGS:** _Language, nudity, **racial slurs**_

**SPOILERS:**  _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  _Please remember that this is fiction and I'm not trying to intentionally offend anyone._ _I missed 1.20 so I wrote this to occupy my time._

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:**   _none_

* * *

It was a full week later and Astrid was still mulling over the bizarre reaction Olivia had had the other day to the fact that Walter lived with her instead of Peter. It was a hot Tuesday afternoon, lunchtime and while she stood, surveying the crime scene, Walter sat on the sidewalk next to her eating his peanut butter and jam sandwich, humming. She hated wearing Kevlar in this heat, but she loved the respect she received wearing anything with the large letters "FSU" emblazoned on it. There was a curious crowd gathered outside the barrier the FBI had set up around and she adjusted her aviator shades as she watched them.

Today the unit had been called to the business district in the center of town where three more mutilated bodies had been found around a large water fountain. Because Boston was currently running under 'Limited Water Restriction: Level Two', frivolous water displays like fountains were shut off to conserve water; Astrid missed the white noise of running water and the opportunity to toss a penny in for a wish. One hand rested on her side holster and the other ruffled Walter's graying curls as she watched junior agents hurrying around to take photos, take written statements, and trail behind Peter and Olivia.

The sun was causing the bodies under the sheets to bloat slightly and Astrid knew that the heat was only going to make the stench of the city worse. She sighed and watched Charlie Francis quickly moving over to her.

"Astrid."

She shifted from her left foot to her right. "Yes?"

He gestured with his head behind him. "There's a problem brewing over by the fountain and the junior agents are starting to get uncomfortable. And I thought because you used to be part of the PLD…"

Astrid felt her heart begin to race as she realised she'd get to deal with an Anti-Patriot. "I'm on it."

Walter let his sandwich fall to the ground as he stood up. "Let me come, too!"

Astrid strode over to the fountain, her boots falling heavily on the stone pavers, Walter trotting happily at her side. Indeed there was a young man starting to yell at the edge of the barricade and people in the crowd were starting to distance themselves from him

"Don't let the government cover this up!" he shouted loudly at the junior agents nearby. "The Jews are doing this! The Jews are trying to kill us off!"

Astrid waved her hand to catch the young man's attention. "Excuse me! I need you to stay away from the barricade and stop using racial slurs. United States citizens and visitors to the United States are prohibited from using terms considered hateful under the Anti-American Protecti—"

The Anti-Patriot ignored her. "All these kykes are trying to cover up what's really happening here! They send out their niggers to spy and—"

"Don't you use that word! Don't you use that word about my assistant!" Walter sputtered loudly, looking horrified.

"She's a nigger!" the Anti-Patriot accused pointing his finger at her.

Still flustered, Walter began a shouting match. "She's a beautiful woman! She's warm and compassionate—"

"Nigger lover!"

"—kind and smart—"

"Nigger!"

"—the best lover I've ever had—"

"Ni—"

Walter launched himself at the Anti-Patriot.

"Walter!" Astrid screamed, frozen in place for a fraction of a second.

After all the training and experience in the PLD hadn't actually prepared Astrid for seeing someone she loved fighting for her. She jumped over the barricade and managed to pull Walter off the Anti-Patriot before putting her steel toed boots to the trouble maker who was still putting up a good fight. She managed to pin him down just as Charlie returned with two other agents.

"You're under arrest, asshole," she snarled as she proceeded to zip tie his wrists together behind his back, "on the charges of attacking a government employee, attempting to incite a riot, usage of anti-American speech, and usage of banned words."

The man spit out blood and Astrid jerked him up to his feet, handing him over to Charlie. "You got him?"

Charlie and another agent told hold of him and grinned at her. "Got him."

In the scuffle, her shades had fallen off and it appeared she had crunched them under her boot, which made her give a forlorn sigh. She picked them up off the ground and began walking back to the space and Walter had been spending their lunch break—she had really liked those sunglasses.

"Did you know, on the Otherside, America has complete freedom of speech? They don't have the laws against unpatriotic actions," Walter said as she high-fived a junior agent.

"I don't believe that," she scoffed, tossing her curls.

He slipped his hand into the crook of her elbow. "It's true! Neo-Nazis can walk the streets carrying banners if they want and as long as they don't hurt anyone or shout too loudly, there is nothing anyone can do."

"That can't be true."

"It is," he assured her.

Astrid was highly skeptical of this information. "So no one there ever listened to the old adage, _'There ought to be limits to freedom'_? No one ever read _'Animal Farm'_? That's silly, Walter. No responsible country would allow these domestic terrorists to say whatever they wanted."

"It's true."

"Walter, I love you and I'm used to your antics, but I don't like you lying to me. Anti-American Protection Laws are what keep us safe. There is no way _any_ version of America would allow people to spread that kind of hate." She grinned and shook her head. "Honestly."

"Well, I love you, Afro. Even when you doubt me." He slipped his hand into hers and together they walked, swinging their arms slightly. "And what you did back there would be considered 'excessive force', my dear. Police brutality."

"Walter, seriously. Police brutality is a made up concept you find in stories. What I did back there is entirely protected under the Justice Proclamation. Excessive force would have been if I used a riot stick on him because he was only one person or…hmmm, maybe if I had kicked him directly in the face."

Walter gave a ragged sigh. "I'm serious, too. I'm sure it doesn't look like it to you, but our world is incredibly harsh. Here our methods are a little more extreme and the concept of Big Brother isn't considered a bad thing. I'm just trying to tell you that it's very different on the Otherside and you need to prepare yourself for that."

Astrid stopped and cupped his face, resting her forehead against his. "Hush. I don't want to imagine a world of chaos. I don't want to imagine a world without rules. I don't want to imagine that any world with you would be anything less than what we have here."

He didn't return her smile. "Just don't be surprised."

* * *

"Five more," Astrid demanded, standing over him, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Please, no. This is unbearable," Walter cried.

Tuesdays were gym day at the apartment, where she set up their _'Total Body Fitness Machine'_ and as expected Walter was taking his turn in an overly dramatic manner. He had on a sloppy pair of sweat pants he'd stolen from the FBI locker room and a white shirt that was now soaked with sweat as he continued the butterfly lift reps.

Taking the job as his trainer, Astrid felt somewhat like a drill sergeant. She was wearing her yoga pants and her 'gym shirt' that had two arrows pointing towards her biceps with the words _'Welcome to the Gun Show'_. Walter had found the grey shirt in a thrift store bin on one of their trips to New York and after she explained the joke to him (twice), he bought it for her. It was about one size too large and had a white bleach stain down the front, but she loved it.

"Four."

"I wish this home gym was dead!" he sobbed.

"Three. And don't talk about my home gym like that. It's what keeps this body looking as fine as it does," she said, somewhat amused.

"Two. And get fat, I don't care," he promised desperately.

She couldn't hide her smile. "One more, Walter."

Walter struggled with the last lift and jumped off the machine, stumbling into the kitchen.

"Oh, thank the merciful gods! What a miserable device!" he proclaimed, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"But look at your arms! You wouldn't have stood a chance against that Anti-Patriot otherwise!" she protested, toweling off the machine before climbing on.

Walter flexed his arms aggressively and Astrid noted that the muscles were still a little soft. "The amount of adrenaline I had running through my body could have let me take on a bull!"

"Okay, Walter," she said rolling her eyes.

"I'm going to be ripped. Just like Chuck Norris," he said smugly.

She set the weights to her preference. "Uh huh. Just drink your sports drink.

He began to noisily slurp down the blue drink, clanking the ice cubes while she started her pull downs. "Hey, Walter?"

"Yes?"

She paused in her rep for a moment. "You know how you asked me the other day if I thought Olivia seemed different?"

His expression darkened. "Of course. What about it?"

Astrid shook her head as she continued her pull-overs. "I can't get it out of my head that she was different. Like she didn't know anything about us. And I mean, she was the first person we notified about… you know, you living with me, so that she wouldn't hunt down Peter if she needed you."

"I know."

"And then when she asked if we should celebrate with pizza."

"It was a good suggestion," he said with a nod.

"But it was like she hadn't heard anything we'd said," she said, finding herself perplexed once more.

He stood over her. "I noticed it when she stopped smoking her cigar. She looked as if she had no idea what she was doing with it."

"It was like she might have been another person entirely," she grumbled, feeling her muscles ache and strain.

Walter turned from her and began to toy with the window blinds. "Aspirin?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember the reports I let you read about the tests I performed on those children?"

She felt a cold chill run up her spine. "How could I forget?"

Walter was quiet and stared out the Boston evening skyline before murmuring, "Olivia was one of them."

Astrid let go of the weight bands and the heavy weights snapped back loudly, causing both of them to jump and she sat up.

"Walter, you're not serious are you?"

He spun around, his face twisted in rage.

"Why would I lie about something like that! I changed her! I morphed her!" he snarled at her, causing her to nearly fall of the exercise machine.

"I am a monster," he whimpered softly, hanging his head.

"Oh Walter." She moved to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "You made mistakes that you've begun to atone for."

He rested his head against hers and they were quiet for a moment. "The other day I believe she changed. She wasn't the Olivia we know."

Astrid looked at him, slightly startled at the thought of possession. "Like someone took over her body?"

"Maybe." He buried his face in her tangle of curls. "How can you even look at me?"

"Walter. You thought that the work you were doing was for the greater good." She stroked her hands soothingly on his back and recited one of her favourite adages. "One shall not think of the needs of the few when there are the needs of the many."

"They were children," he protested weakly and she felt her heart ache for his pain.

"I know. But it's important that you know _now_ that it was wrong, than continuing to excuse the behaviour."

"You won't tell her, will you?"

She kissed his temple. "No. That's something you'll have to do."

Walter pulled away from her suddenly.

"It's almost time to watch SpongeBob," he murmured and drifted off to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Astrid felt her stomach churn at the information Olivia might be…well, Olivia didn't act like a Modified, so maybe Walter was wrong. She found his drink and retrieved a box of chocolate chip cookies, hurrying to join him, the thought of SpongeBob a welcome retreat.


	5. Chapter Five

**TITLE:**  _Chapter Five_

**PAIRING:**  _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop_

**GENRE:**  _Dark_

**RATING:**  _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** 3901

**WARNINGS:** _Nudity_

**SPOILERS:**  _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  _I missed 1.20 so I wrote this to occupy my time._

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:**   _none_

* * *

Walter was dancing happily next to the Suburban door in the underground parking lot, singing, "Road trip! Road trip! _Road trip_!"

Astrid was happy enough to dance too, but she knew it was probably in everyone's best interest to stay still. She did grin at him though as she tossed the last bag of laundry into the backseat.

"Make sure you have your ID and pass on. I don't want any hold ups at the gate," she said gesturing to her own pass that hung from a lanyard around her neck.

"Right here!" He said holding out the ID holder hanging around his neck and poked at his Kevlar vest. "I can't wait to walk around in public without this stupid thing on!"

She had to agree. "Me, too. It's so hot."

Once inside the vehicle, he turned the AC up to 'four' and the blast of cold air was merciful on their skin. The impending summer season was becoming oppressive, something she definitely wasn't looking forward to. _'We'll have to buy plenty of sunscreen,'_ she mentally noted.

Walter held out his notebook, showing the pages of lists he'd carefully printed out with her fountain pen last night. "I've got our grocery list and our clothes list and the list of things I want that I saw on TV…"

"Buckle up," she said as he began to mumble to himself about wanting bubble solution.

It was their day off, the first one in two weeks and they'd received permission to leave the city to go to New York. While Boston had adequate supplies dropped in by helicopter to the base and then distributed to the businesses who'd made the original order, Astrid hated using ration cards. She was a stockpiler by nature and liked having a pantry full especially with Walter living with her. It was also hard to find the energy to go hunt down what she needed in stores after working with bodies missing spinal fluid or chewed to death by the chimeras still on the loose on the outskirt of town.

A fire truck raced past them, the siren wailing loudly. Fire seemed to plague Boston lately; the air was always thick with smoke and thankfully the air pumped into the FBI building was heavily filtered and humidified. Astrid just wished that the smell of burning buildings would overpower the scent of dead bodies that hung in the air.

Walter was wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, something he rarely did, but she wanted his identification tattoo out in the open at the check point that that they could both be scanned and out of there ASAP. She herself was wearing two layers of ribbed tank tops that were making the Kevlar as hot as fuck underneath. Both were wearing sunglasses though, she had downgraded his from mirror lenses to gradient because he was constantly getting smudges on the surface which hardly looked professional.

As the approached the boundary wall, she instructed him to take them off so the could be quickly identified at the checkpoint. The Gate was the only way in and out of the city; the airport was now under military control, all other roads had been sealed off or otherwise destroyed and the harbour was completely shut down.

Astrid pulled up the designated check point and rolled down their vehicles windows. Three soldiers armed with Steyr AUGs approached the vehicle.

"Name and identification?" the one closest to the car window asked.

She held up her ID card and her government border pass. "Special Agent Astrid Farnsworth, Fringe Science Unit, FBI."

He jotted down the information onto a clipboard and looked at Walter. "Passenger name and identification?"

"Walter Bishop," the scientist said and Astrid cleared her throat, which seemed to jog his memory. He held up his ID and border pass for the soldier to see. "Oh, yes. Fringe Science Unit. Civilian consultant."

The soldier passed the clipboard off to motioned for them to lift up their left arms and he held out a small handheld scanner. He ran it across Astrid's identification tattoo and when Walter leaned across the center consol to hold out his arm, he did the same to the scientist. The scanner gave two chirps, which seemed to satisfy the soldier and he motioned for another soldier to hand back the clipboard.

"Are you transporting any banned article?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No."

"Are you knowingly infected?"

"No."

"When will you be returning to the outer gate?"

"Tomorrow, around noon."

The soldier poised his pen above the clipboard. "Purpose of leaving."

"Shopping!" Walter interjected excitedly.

"We'll be picking up supplies for ourselves," Astrid quickly clarified.

The soldier nodded and she wished she could see his eyes behind the dark mirror lenses.

"Do you have a working cell phone with you?"

She held up her grey phone and Walter's blue. "Two and both numbers are listed in our files."

He nodded and peered into their backseat. "Do you intend on bringing any passengers back with you?"

"No, sir."

He was quiet for a brief second as he crossed another box on the form then said, "Everything appears to be in order. The Edge-of-the-Edge Gate is expecting you in an hour and half. Have a nice trip."

The three soldiers saluted and Astrid and Walter did the same as the large metal bars of the gate withdrew into the ground and the gate top, looking like they were teeth to some giant maw. Carefully she drove through, a slight fear still making her believe the bars might catch them and eat them whole.

The Outer Edge was a large boundary that extended around the metropolis of Boston and the smaller cities of Cambridge and Somerville. It had been created not long after the Outbreak had occurred, a large tract of land that had been bulldozed and left as nothing more than brown dirt. It was ugly and hopeless and Astrid was thankful that most civilians didn't have to see it; it truly made the crisis and isolation feel more real.

The trip through _'The Outer Edge'_ was painfully slow; while it was only thirty miles across the barren landscape, the speed limit was listed as _'20 mph EXACT'_ which meant cruise control could be used, but Astrid always felt like she could get out and walk faster, which made her terribly impatient. But that wasn't the only part of the drive that was difficult. A quarter mile onto the road there was a sign that said _'Keep Eyes on Road at All Times'_ and another one that stated, _'Vehicles are to Remain Moving and On the Road at All Times. Violators Will Be Terminated.'_ Astrid could keep her eyes from darting around too often but Walter was another matter all together; ever prepared, she had packed an assortment of activities to keep him busy for the sixty-minute trip. Colouring books, cards, cat's cradle, paper fortune tellers, and during the straightest stretch of road Astrid could take her hands off the steering wheel to play _'Stella Ella Ola'_—these were the saving graces that kept them from getting in trouble.

Astrid wasn't quite sure what they weren't supposed to be seeing, but she wasn't about to look to find out.

And exactly an hour and half later they'd made it from one side to the other safely, slowing at the Edge-of-the-Edge Gate to check in with the next set of soldiers.

One of the three soldiers approached their vehicle, though he seemed a little more casual as he scanned their identification tattoos once more. "Hello, Agent Farnsworth. How was the trip?"

"Barren," she joked.

He smirked. "You'll return to this gate at noon tomorrow?"

"Yes."

The soldier nodded. "Have a nice trip."

Another metal barred gate opened and they were finally released from Boston. It was startling to go from the empty landscape to green grass and trees with new leaves. The sky seemed bluer and after they were out of sight of the gate and watchtowers, they pulled over to remove their Kevlar vests.

"Ah, sweet freedom," she declared, pushing hers under her seat. "And onwards to New York."

Walter clapped his hands together and shouted, "Excelsior!"

* * *

The trip to New York City was almost four hours exact and her companion had spent the entire ride singing Elvis Presley, known as 'Elvis the Pelvis' before he was drafted in WW2 and subsequently killed while serving. As much as she appreciated his efforts to protect their country she was glad the vulgar 'rockabilly' movement never took hold. She loved her swing music too much.

"Hotel!" Walter sang, pointing to a large, inviting looking building.

Astrid steered the Suburban towards the parking garage and within moments they were parked and inside the hotel at the front desk.

The hostess who was serving them seemed tired and none too pleased that Walter was helping himself to all the Hersey's kisses in the candy bowl. "One bed or two?"

Astrid didn't mind sharing, but getting to have a separate bed was such a privilege. "Walter?"

"One," he said, mouth full of chocolate.

"Card?" the woman requested, holding out her hand.

Astrid gave over her pass.

The hostess lit up at the sight of her ID. "Agent Farnsworth. It's a pleasure to have you stay with us."

Astrid gave a nod. "Thank you."

"Can we upgrade you to a suite for no extra charge?" the woman asked, pausing in her typing.

Ah, the perks of her job. "That would be nice."

"Can we have someone take your bags up for you?"

She shook her head. "We can manage. Thank you."

With a smile, the hostess returned her ID card and handed her a key card as well. "Here's your room key."

"Thank you."

"Please let us know if there is anything we can get you," the hostess said amicably.

Astrid picked up their bags and looked at the scientist next to her. "C'mon, Walter."

Walter snatched one more Hershey's kiss out of the bowl and hurried after her. Up the elevator and down a hallway to the right, they unlocked room 608, a south facing room that was extravagantly large. Actually it was much bigger than the apartment and she wondered if maybe she painted all her rooms the pale taupe it would make their home seem like more of a retreat—

"Ooh, look at this bed, young lady! It'll be like sleeping on a cloud," Walter declared as he flopped onto the bed.

She set down their bags and joined him, closing her eyes. "Oh man… this _is_ heavenly…"

"We should have asked for two beds and we could have pushed them together and made a giant mattress," he said clambering to his feet on top of the comforter.

She rolled aside just in time to avoid Walter's shoes as he began jumping up and down on the bed.

"Walter, stop it."

He shook his head as he continued. "I can't do it at home, so I'll do it here."

"Walter, you're going to break the—"

There was a loud 'snap!' and Walter covered his mouth as his eyes became wide. Astrid frowned and pursed her lips.

"Mattress," she finished.

"Hotel bed are shit anyway," he declared as he sat down next to her.

There was a knock on the door and she pulled out her gun, adrenaline racing through her. Quietly she climbed off the bed and checked the peephole to look at who it was.

"Room Service, Agent Farnsworth," a smiling sandy-haired teenager said, a metal serving cart at his side.

She unlocked the door and let him in, though she still had her gun in hand.

He pushed the cart in that had an ice bucket with champagne and a large platter of assorted fruit, orange slices being the dominant feature. "Compliments of Double Tree resort. If there is anything else we can get for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Whipped cream. In an aerosol can," Walter demanded as he pulled the champagne out of the ice and lifted the two chilled glasses into his hand.

Astrid felt her face get red at the implication. "No—"

The young man nodded at the scientist before exiting the room. "We'll bring it right up, sir."

"Walter," she chastised as the scientist popped the cork of the bottle.

"If you behave, I may let you have some too," he said as he poured her a glass of champagne and handed it over to her.

She couldn't help but smile. "Shameless."

* * *

One thing Astrid loved about getting out of Boston was that she could take long hot bathes. She didn't have to heat any of the water herself, nor did she have to follow the water shortage guidelines. No, she could just lie around in this huge bathtub that was more of a pool and run the bubble jets while becoming pruney… She gave a content sigh as she readjusted the rolled towel that was serving as a pillow. The bubble bath she'd poured in smelled heavily of lavender and was making her drowsy. The radio was playing softly in the back ground, tuned into the Patriots Channel. Tchaikovsky's 1812 came over the speakers and languidly she conducted it with a Twizzler before taking a big bite of the candy. Walter sat at the other end of the large tub, filling his mouth with whipped cream from the can, seemingly just as relaxed as she was.

On the hour, the radio station played the pledge of allegiance and as a dutiful citizen, she lazily recited along.

"I pledge my allegiance to the United States of America. And to the Republic, in which I stand, one nation under Law, with Justice then Liberty for all!"

Commercials for toothpaste and the Dental Hygiene Commission came on and as she took another handful of the red licorice candy out she heard Walter quietly mumbling to himself.

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. And to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all."

She turned back to look at him. "What did you say?"

His eyes avoided hers. "Nothing."

She frowned and gnawed on the Twizzlers, repeating his odd version of the pledge of allegiance until it hit her where he must have heard it.

"Is that what they say in the Otherside?" she asked curiously.

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "They put people's freedom before fairness or the law?"

"Yes."

"Barbaric. I suppose they allow their children to eat ice cream for breakfast, too. Otherwise it might oppress 'freedom'," she said snippily.

He tossed the now empty can of whipped cream over the edge of the tub onto the bath rug. "They have it pretty planned out."

"Absolutely silly." The more she heard about the Otherside, the worse it sounded. She splashed her fists irately into the bath water. "It makes me angry! They could have a perfect world like us! But they throw it away for the sake of people's happiness!"

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I know you're frustrated, my dear. But that is what makes them happy."

"Rules don't make them happy? Safety doesn't make them happy? Predictability doesn't make them happy?"

"Astrid, they don't want any form police state or any sort of regime."

She tossed her hands up in exasperation. "Why not?"

"They want to be able to say what they want, do what they want, think what they want. If someone wants to make a painting of the Madonna and Christ-Child out of elephant dung, they can."

Astrid let out a gasp and covered her mouth, horrified. "But wouldn't anyone be offended by that?"

"Of course they would. But they have the freedom of speech."

"We tried 'freedoms' in the eighties and look how that turned out," she said in an accusing tone.

Walter sighed. "Our society is much different than theirs. Their world is based on 'Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness'. Ours was founded on 'Freedom in Safety'."

"Because the men and women who came here had been persecuted for their religious beliefs and they wanted to make sure that it never happened again! If we didn't have rules, anyone could say what they wanted, offend anyone they want, and inspire hate!" she said angrily.

Walter moved over to her and motioned for her to turn around. He began to massage her shoulders and she sighed, unable to remain upset.

"I just don't understand why they would want that. _Barbaric_," she murmured.

* * *

Astrid browsed the tall rows of things in the antique store, wondering if she did buy the canning kit she was looking at, would she actually find the time to use it. _'Probably not,'_ she thought to herself and looked at a hand cranked meat grinder. She hated worrying about the rolling blackouts that kept happening in Boston, leaving them helpless if her generator became damaged.

"Oh, isn't this beautiful!" Walter squealed as he pressed his face into a jewelry cabinet at the front of the store.

"What did you—"

He waved his hands frantically at her. "Don't look!"

She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the meat grinder. "Fine."

* * *

"Did you know that the ink in our tattoos contains nano markers?" he asked later that night in their hotel bed.

Astrid yawned and buried her face into the light blue material of his pyjama shirt. "Of course."

His fingers played with her curly hair. "And they can be programmed to burrow under the skin to form a disk?"

She looked up at him, studying his face in the dark. "I'd heard a rumour about it. I always thought it was a myth."

"I think mine wants to." He scratched at his tattoo. "I'd cut it out."

"Why would they want the nano markers to do that?" she asked as she rested her head back on his chest once more.

"You'll call me a nut," Walter mumbled quietly.

"Maybe." She stretched her body along his. One part of having to take care of Walter that she absolutely enjoyed was having someone to be close to. His arms tightened around her and she asked, "Why do you know so much about the Otherside?"

"We were told to study them, so I did," he said coolly, his unusually distant mood making her uncomfortable.

"Oh. That makes sense." She sat up and straddled his hips, looking curiously down at him. "You seem upset. Do you want to do something?"

He gave her a weak smile. "No. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I'm not in the mood."

"Is it because I made such a big deal about those Othersiders?" she asked as he gently pushed her off of him and back onto the bed.

"Slightly." He still seemed sad. "But I appreciate you trying to make up for it."

"So goodnight then?" she asked timidly.

He rolled over, facing away from her. "Goodnight, lamb. Sleep well."

* * *

It was the next morning and Astrid was walking through the front lobby, hand in hand with Walter. She leaned against him slightly, wondering if everyone was looking at the blush still on her cheeks or the hickey that her shirt collar was having a hard time keeping hidden. Walter kept giving her an embarrassed smile while avoiding her eyes, though his hand tightened ever so slightly every time he did. They'd already checked out and were headed towards the front door to reach the parking garage when they heard someone running after them. They turned around to see a young woman in a burgundy hotel clerk uniform holding a light pink envelope.

"Ma'am?"

Astrid paused. "Yes?"

"You're going back to Boston, aren't you?" the girl asked breathlessly.

She nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Could you take this for me? It's a birthday card to my best friend and getting the post to Boston takes forever." The girl handed over the pink envelope.

Astrid nodded. "I can take it."

The girl gave a relieved smile. "Thank you."

As Astrid and Walter continued out the front door, her eyes locked onto a postbox set out on the sidewalk to accept deliveries that hotel patrons might need to send home souvenirs. Astrid opened up her wallet and pulled out a little booklet of stamps she carried with her and proceeded to put them on the envelope the young woman gave her.

"What are you doing?" Walter asked.

She put a third stamp on. "I'm mailing it."

"But you said you'd take it—"

She shook her head. "Walter, this could be bugged. I'll send it through the post so that they can inspect it."

Walter was quiet as he watched her place the post box. "In the Otherside you wouldn't have to be worried about microchips being in letters."

She snickered. "Yeah, okay."

"And the post boxes, they don't have pipe bomb detectors."

She put a hand on her hip. "So how to they detect pipe bombs?"

"Sometimes they don't," he admitted.

Astrid rolled her eyes in disgust. "C'mon, Walter. Let's head home."

Their Suburban was filled with boxes of canned food, packaged meals and the cooler was stocked with the protein shakes that they drank for breakfast when they had to run off to work. They'd cleaned, dried, and folded their clothes and linens at a Laundromat the day before and both were eager to wear clothes that had been dried in a drier instead of on the clothesline in the apartment living room. They were definitely more than prepared to return to Boston.

They had left New York, driving through an outcrop of fields and forests when Walter announced, "My lamb, I've bought you a treat."

Astrid felt her heart beat a millisecond faster. Walter always gave good—if sometimes out of left field—gifts. One time he gave her a preserved sapphire blue butterfly and another time he gave her an old map of Norway, where her late father was from.

"Okay," she said a little breathlessly, unable to hold back her excited smile.

"Close your eyes," he said in a singsong voice.

"Walter, I'm _driving_."

He shook her shoulder. "Pull over then!"

She sighed and did as he asked. "Okay, what is it?"

He dug a small tissue paper wrapped item out of his pack and presented it to her. Timidly she tore the pastel purple paper to reveal something bright and shiny.

"Oh, Walter! It's beautiful!" Astrid cried as she saw what it was that he'd purchased for her.

She pulled the object out of the paper and studied the octopus head-shaped ring.

"It's Cthulhu," he explained as she slipped it onto her middle finger, the tentacles acting as the ring band.

The small cut glass jewels embedded across the surface sparkled black in the sunlight. "I love it."

He took her fingers to study it as well. "You won't be able to wear it on the job, but maybe you could put it on a chain."

Astrid felt her whole body tense. "Wait, this isn't like an engagement ring, right?"

"More like a commitment or promise." He looked back up at her and smiled. "You mean a lot to me. I don't ever want to do anything that will make you think otherwise."

She threw her arms around him. "I love it."


	6. Chapter Six

**TITLE:**  _Chapter Six_

**PAIRING:**  _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Charlie Francis, Phillip Broyles_

**GENRE:**  _Dark_

**RATING:**  _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _1263_

**WARNINGS:** _Character death_

**SPOILERS:**  _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  _I missed 1.20 so I wrote this to occupy my time._

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:**   _none_

* * *

Walter moved the seat of his office chair from side to side slowly as he sat next to her, watching Astrid filling in reports for the Bureau that she'd been putting off for a few days. She thought that maybe he was sitting a little close and it might alert the junior agents in the room to the exact nature of their relationship, but so far no one was giving them funny looks or making comments, so she had to admit to herself that she might be overreacting.

"I wonder what your middle name is in the Otherside," he pondered aloud, intentionally knocking over her coffee mug filled with pens.

Astrid began to pick up all the FBI issued ballpoints off her papers. "What do you mean? My middle name is Norway-America."

He pushed leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "No, I mean on the Otherside you aren't named after your citizenship and place of birth."

She made a face. "I don't understand. What other kind of middle name could I have then?"

"You would be named something like 'Astringent Jane' or 'Astringent Melon'."

She collected all the pens in her hands and placed them back into her mug. "So a second name?"

He lit up, obviously happy that she understood him for once. "Yes!"

"Like 'Peter William American Bishop'," she suggested.

He shook his head. "No. No 'American' or 'America' at all. Just 'Peter William Bishop'."

"No, my middle name is 'America'. Just like every other woman." Astrid looked over at the blonde a few desks over and called out, "Olivia! What's your middle name?"

Olivia grinned at her. "America, dummy."

"Charlie?"

Agent Francis didn't look up from his computer screen. "Charlie American Francis."

"See? We have middle names." She glanced around to make sure no one was looking and kissed him on the knuckles before adding, "Dr. Walter English-American Bishop."

Walter stood up and pushed over her pen mug once more. "Oh, Assistant. Sometimes you exhaust me."

With an amused smile, Astrid watched Walter wander over to the water cooler just as Peter came from the balcony into the office.

"Hey, I just got off the phone with Belly. He wants us to come down to New York." He pointed at Olivia. "He asked for you specifically."

"Your godfather?" Astrid asked.

Olivia's eyes were wide. "Why?"

Peter shrugged. "He wouldn't say. He just said that we should come down tomorrow—"

"Suit up, everybody!" Charlie yelled, jumping up from his desk and he began to run out of the office. "Suspected Outbreak sighting by Saber Park!"

* * *

"Ah, there's nothing sexier than a woman in a Level A Hazmat suit," Walter declared as he took a second sampling of the corpse's liver temperature.

"A woman dressed up as a naughty librarian," Charlie countered, his voice sounding distant through his helmet.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Careful. Agent Farnsworth is here."

"Oh, she won't turn us in on charges of vulgarity," Charlie isisted as he bagged a sample of the deceased's torn flesh.

"Don't be so sure. I happen to think men in handcuffs are sexy," Astrid joked.

Walter grinned at her. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

Broyles, dressed his own Hazmat suit, came over to stare at the dead body, bringing their banter to an end. "Dr. Bishop, is it the same creature?"

"I told you that I thought it was a human from the bite marks," Walter grumbled, obviously irritated that he had to keep repeating himself. "It's not Outbreak, though."

* * *

It was nearly an hour 'til midnight and all the agents had left for the night, ready to resume in the morning or whenever they were called in. Astrid was collecting the last of her gear from the office, calls earlier taking up her time, which made her late. She entered the darkened office, thinking to herself when movement by Peter's desk caught her attention. She slowly moved over to see the young professor studying some between his to fingers and as she moved beside him, she saw what it was, her heart sinking.

Astrid felt her heart sink when she saw he was holding his wedding band in his hand.

"Hey," Astrid said softly.

"I never thought I'd lose her, you know?" he held up the wedding band he once wore and the faint light of the electronics in the room caught off the yellow gold. "I was always a String Theorist, a devote one. We'd talked about children, baptizing them in the Scientific Hall in London, working on our book about chemistry and then…"

"You can still have your faith." She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "The universe gives and takes. You pull one way and it will pull back. You lost your wife, you gained your father."

"_You_ gained my father," he said, his voice beginning to show hints of anger.

She bit her lower lip. "Don't punish him because of Tess. He loves you."

"He shouldn't have put his work before his family then! He abandoned me and my mother to do his stupid work with Kelvin! I should have had him when I was growing up. And then for him to damage the family name because of that stupid lab assistant?" "It would have been better if he'd just stayed locked up!"

"Peter!" she said sharply. There were still tears evident in his eyes and she softened her tone. "Your father never wanted anyone to die. He didn't want to be taken away from you. And he's trying to save all these people here in Boston. You know that if he could, he would have done everything in his power to save Tess. Anything you love, he loves. Anything you hate, he hates."

"Yeah, well, I hate him."

"And in turn he hates himself." She looked down at the wedding band in his hand once more. "I'm not asking you to forget Tess, but there was nothing he could do to save her. Walter had nothing to do with the Outbreak."

"I know." He exhaled. "I know."

The office door opened and Walter came wandering in. "Lamb, do you have another half-nickel? I want to—" He paused as he realised Peter was in the room with her. "Oh, hello son! I was just by the vending machine buying a fruit pie and I realised that I wanted a lemon one, not a cherry filling, so I came looking for Miss Assistant to get another half-nickel to buy a lemon filled one…"

Walter tilted his head to look closer at his son. "Are you sad? You look sad."

Peter was a good liar. "No, I'm fine."

"You look like you need a fruit pie. Cherry is your favourite filling, isn't it?" Walter handed the wax wrapped paper dessert over to his son.

Peter gave a slight smile as he accepted it. "It is."

"You'll need a napkin—"

Astrid blocked the scientist from haranguing his son further. "Walter, Peter's ready to go home, so I'm sure he can find a napkin on his own. Gather your things—here's another half-nickel—and I'll meet you at the vending machine, okay?"

Walter accepted the coin and started to chant as he began to head back to the vending machine. "Lemon, lemon, lemon, lemon…"

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked.

He nodded and placed the ring back in his desk's drawer. "I just need to get some sleep."

She picked her paperwork off her 'In' file. "Take care of yourself."

He looked at her sadly. "I always do."


	7. Chapter Seven

**TITLE:** _Chapter Seven_

**PAIRING:** _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Phillip Broyles, Charlie Francis_

**GENRE:** _Dark, AU_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _1094_

**WARNINGS:** _None_

**SPOILERS:** _Anything Season One_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _Sorry it took so long to post this!_

**DISCLAIMER****:** _none_

* * *

Astrid found the showering tokens that she'd stashed in the top shelf of her locker while she clutched a towel around her naked body. The trip to New York to visit Peter's godfather was postponed due to an Outbreak reporting that morning; at the moment they were in the Bureau's decontaminating room, stripped out of their HAZMAT suits and clothes while they waited for the junior agents to finish their own decontaminating showers. Olivia sat on the bench behind her, wrapped in a towel as she concluded the saga of her latest blind date.

"And so I told him, if you're not willing to stay here in Boston, then I don't think this will work out." The blonde sighed despondently. "I don't know. I'm thinking about just asking the department for an AA."

Peter, whom was at his locker hanging up his button-up shirt, turned to look at them. "What's an AA?"

"Assigned Arrangement. It's the FBI's version of a blind date. They have two agents paired together after filling out a questionnaire. It's very efficient," Astrid explained; being that Peter was just a civilian consultant, he didn't always understand their lingo.

Olivia blushed. "If I like who they assign me, I'll probably take a six month arrangement."

"Go with the three month," Astrid recommended, remembering her own experience last year with an AA.

Charlie, who was wrapping his own towel around his waist, added his own two cents. "You'll be able to apply for bureau housing. You'd probably get the house right down the street from Sonia and I."

Olivia pondered this for a moment. "I would like somewhere new to live. And it would cut down on the commute significantly."

A loud buzzer on the wall indicated the decontaminating shower units were ready and Astrid wrapped her towel a little tighter around herself as she followed in a straight line behind the very tall Peter and before her fellow agent Olivia. She had two shower tokens kept tightly in her right hand and before she entered the tile enclosure labeled "SHOWER 3" she passed one off to Peter. Olivia followed in behind her and shut the matte vinyl shower curtain. Astrid slipped one of her tokens into a slot on the wall and Olivia did the same. They tossed their towels over the shower curtain bar and a second buzzer sounded, signaling the start of their shower.

Leval A hazmat suits were hot and poorly ventilated, so it meant everyone finished shifts monitoring the Outbreak with sweaty, sticky skin. The Bureau had become stricter with its water usage, trying to set a good example for the citizens of Boston and after suggested cutbacks, it was decided that single showers would not be permitted any longer and agents had to double up. Olivia was Astrid's 'Shower Buddy' simply because they were the only women in the FSU. Fortunately, she was a very courteous agent and never hogged the water for the ten minute time period. Walter on the other hand…

"Walter, let me scrub this out of my hair!" Peter shouted angrily from the shower next to their left.

Walter's voice carried over the top of the tile walls in a wail. "I'm going to! You have less hair than me! I need to wash this shampoo out first!"

"I'm getting soap in my eyes!" Peter snarled.

Olivia looked like she was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "Damn, I wish we could have gone to New York."

"Yes, then we could listen to them bickering in an even smaller space," Astrid mumbled and both women laughed behind their hands.

Shower tokens bought four and a half minutes of time, so today Astrid and Olivia a combined nine minutes. Having been given an extra token, Peter and Walter had a total of thirteen and a half minutes, which by any standards was a luxury, though it seemed the two men spent most of the time fighting for who would be in the water the longest. Astrid broke open a packet of harsh sterilization detergent and began to lather her skin with it as Olivia stood under the shower.

In the next stall over the shouting got louder and Astrid sighed. She could tell already it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Astrid woke in the middle of the night to someone shaking her arm.

"Assistant," Walter whispered, leaning over her.

"What?" she asked groggily.

He moved closer to her, his whisper too loud in her ear. "Do you trust me?"

She sat up, still not full awake. "What?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked again.

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "Yes. Sometimes."

He lay back down, seeming satisfied. "Okay."

She however looked at him with suspicion. "Why? Did you do something?"

He nodded. "A long time ago. Not to you, though."

She looked at him curiously, running a finger down his forearm. "Was is something you'll get in trouble for?"

"I could."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, wondering what he could have done.

He shook his head. "You'd get in trouble if you knew, too."

Her stomach knotted. "Oh."

He turned away from her. "Goodnight."

* * *

"Stop touching my papers," Peter growled that next morning from his desk. "Get away from me."

Walter continued offering the fruit pie from the vending machine to Peter. "It's cherry, son. You like cherry filling. I like lemon, but you like cherry."

"I said get **away**!" Peter shouted angrily, causing everyone in the office to look up at him.

Astrid felt embarrassed, as if she were a parent who couldn't keep an unruly child under control; she quickly motioned her arms to beckon the older man to her and hissed, "Walter, come sit back here with me. I have a connect-the-dots page for you."

Walter dropped the fruit pie at his son's feet unceremoniously as he returned to her desk, sitting down angrily next to her. He exchanged a nasty look with his son before accepting the crayons and colouring book she was trying to hand him.

"These pictures never turn out," he grumbled, opening up the book to a blank page.

Her face was still flushed and tried to avoid the irritated look Broyles was giving her. "That's because you have to connect them one-two-three, not just by primes or evens or odds. I promise it will make a picture if you do it in numerical order."

"Only if you promise," he said, taking a deep green crayon to start his picture.


	8. Chapter Eight

**TITLE:** _Chapter Eight_

**PAIRING:** _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham,__Phillip Broyles, Charlie Francis_

**GENRE:** _Dark_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _2256_

**WARNINGS:** _Language, death,_

**SPOILERS:** _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _My favourite chapter to write!_

**VOCABULARY:**_ad maiorem Scientia gloriam—"to the greater glory of__Science"_

**DISCLAIMER****:** _none_

* * *

_Astrid had only been working for two weeks with the Fringe Science Unit when she was officially put in charge of the cadaver study division. She was the only one willing to work with the infected bodies out of her new team and as always, it was going to be a chance to prove herself to her supervisors._

_Working in the morgue for part of the day to check in new bodies set for destruction was creepy and she had yet to get used to wearing a Hazmat suit while doing work. Having just labeled the second body of the day, she stepped forward to the next, finding a new form on her clipboard and looked down at the body bag to her left briefly to make sure the face between the zippers matched the Polaroid picture before the morgue attendant zipped and sealed the corpse._

"'_kay, Flanders," she said._

_He read from the chart in a flat tone, this being the tenth body discussed in the hour. "Female, late twenties, married, pregnant, no prior children. She was in a Body Suspension Cocoon for her final month but they didn't get her in soon enough to prevent the spread of the Outbreak in her body. She must have hid her illness to avoid the quarantine."_

_She scribbled the notes in her quick cursive, filling out her own form lightning fast. "And her husband was tested?"_

"_Yes, back when he found out. He was in quarantine until his lab work came back clean."_

_Her pen didn't stop moving as she followed up. "The husband didn't mention pregnancy. How far along was she?"_

"_I'd guess maybe two months."_

_There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realised why it wasn't on the paperwork and she looked up at Flanders, grimacing. "So she hadn't told him yet." _

_He nodded, looking just as upset with the fact. "What would you like me to do?"_

_She thought for a moment and then went back to writing, acting casual and authoritative. "Let's not mention it. No point in putting salt in his wounds."_

_They began to move over to the next body bag. "Shall I send her down to the crematorium?"_

"_Yes." She quickly affixed a bright orange tag across the front labeled 'destroy'. "And that was cadaver 899045?"_

_He nodded. "Yes, a Mrs Tess Bishop."_

* * *

It was too early in the morning for Astrid to want to be up, the bedroom pitch black, but the slightest vibration in her bones made her sit straight up in bed, her stomach quaking in fear.

"Walter! Walter, wake up! Wake up!"

"What is it?" he asked sleepily then his eyes opened wide as he sat up next to her. "The Rumble Truck."

"C'mon!" she cried, hurrying off the bed to lay face down on the cold wood floor as the faintest sound of an announcement from loud speakers began to play a few blocks away.

"…face down on the floor. Residents pregnant or disabled may lay on their right side. Residents should cover themselves with the government issued blanket you have been provided. Children under the age of eight should cover their ears. Residents with pacemakers should keep their left hand elevated on the back of their neck. All doors should be locked and remain locked. There is no need to be alarmed. All residents please lay face down on the floor. Residents pregnant or disabled…"

As the announcement grew louder and the vibrations in her body grew stronger, she turned her head in the direction of where Walter was lying. "Did I ever tell you that I worked with the Rumble Squad? It was only for one day, though. I was in the truck for about five minutes and puked everywhere."

"Oh?" he replied, his voice sounding hopeful.

She frowned, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "I'm not going to get sick now, Walter. Only riding in the truck."

"Oh," he replied, sounding very disappointed.

She could feel the liquid in her eyeballs quiver and she scrunched her eyes shut as tightly as she could; she could sense Walter shifting uncomfortably in the dark and over the sound of the Rumble Truck's speakers, she said, "Let's recite the Empirical Oath, hmm?"

"Okay," he said with a whimper.

The cartilage and blood within her body began to quake violently and she knew the Rumble Truck was drawing close, maybe only a block or two away. In the dark of their bedroom, her hand frantically searched out his; while she wasn't openly saying she was scared, she knew her body language said it. Walter held her hand tightly and his voice trembled along with hers.

"I swear by Apollo Physician and Asclepius and Hygieia and Panaceia and all the gods, and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant. I have entered the serious pursuit of new knowledge as a member of the community of the Church of Empirical Wisdom. I declare the following:

"Pride: I solemnly declare my pride in belonging to the international community of the Church of Empirical Wisdom. I shall hold my duty of an Empiricist to the highest esteem.

"Integrity: I promise never to allow financial gain, competitiveness, or ambition cloud my judgment in the conduct of any research. I shall not knowingly mislead, or allow others to be misled, about scientific matters. I shall present and review scientific evidence, theory, or interpretation honestly and accurately. I shall take steps to prevent corrupt practices and professional misconduct and I shall also declare conflicts of interest.

"Pursuit: I will pursue knowledge and create knowledge for the greater good, but never to the detriment of colleagues, supervisors, research subjects or the international community of scholars of which I am now a member. I shall seek to discuss the issues that science raises for society and listen to the aspirations and concerns of others. I shall act with skill and care in all scientific work. I shall maintain current skills and assist their development in others.

"Life: I will honour all life, friend, stranger, or foe. I will aid all those sick and suffering to the best of my ability. I shall seek all known treatments to serve my patient. There is no need for repayment of my services whether it be advice or medicine.

"By pronouncing this Oath, I affirm my commitment to professional conduct and to abide by the principles of ethical conduct and research policies as set out by the Church of Empirical Wisdom. If I fulfil this Oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honored with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, I do not belong and shall be immediately excommunicated. Ad maiorem Scientia gloriam."

By this time Astrid could feel her teeth wanting to rattle out of her skull and she was crying from the amount of pain the frequencies from the Rumble Truck generated in her body. She could hear Walter sobbing next to her, his hand hardly able to keep hold of hers. She couldn't stop screaming as the noise in her brain became unbearable and while she'd been through this many times since the start of the Outbreak, Astrid felt for sure she was going to die here on this floor.

* * *

While this was becoming one of the hottest summers Astrid could remember since moving to Boston, she was bundled up in long sleeves, a sweater, and a scarf—she'd had on mittens earlier, but they got in the way of her laboured typing. Anytime she had woken up from the horrible, unspeakable pain caused by the Rumble Truck, she found she had a hard time keeping warm, her blood circulation very poor. Walter had once suggested that maybe the oxygen was being rattled loose from her blood cells, but she'd given him a tired laugh and ignored the joke. Everyone in the office had circles under their eyes this morning and seemed to be having a hard time moving as through they were all afflicted with joint pain, which in actuality they were; Astrid prayed that she'd never get arthritis because she couldn't imagine feeling this way all the time.

Walter had a huge bruise on the side of his head where he'd hit the floor during his convulsions and Peter had shown up late due to the stitches he'd needed to repair the part of his cheek he'd bitten through. Charlie always looked like he took it hardest of all of them, his face gaunt and eyes blood shot. On one occasion he'd actually been forced to use a wheelchair because he couldn't keep his balance. Astrid shivered uncontrollably as she returned from the lavatory after throwing up to see Olivia holding up a letter, looking as though she was fighting back a grimace from the pain of having to clutch at the paper.

"Guess who got his letter back today from the King of England?"

She gave a weak smile towards the younger of the Bishop men. "Peter?"

He nodded, the spittle on the corner of his mouth a slight shade of pink and Olivia winked at her. "Correcto-mundo, Agent Farnsworth."

Peter blotted his mouth with a sheet of gauze. "I was too nervous to read it so I had Dunham here do it."

Astrid breathed hard as she lowered herself into her seat. "And?"

Olivia broke into a beaming smile and with a flourish of her hand that must have been extraordinarily painful, declared, "I'd like to present to you King's Doctor, Peter William American Bishop."

Astrid smiled at him, wishing she could give him a handshake, but the thought of moving anymore than she already had made her want to pass out. "Congratulations! In a few years, you'll be a High King's Doctor."

"High King's Doctor Bishop. That sounds nice," Peter admitted, looking quite proud.

"I'm a High King's Doctor," Walter announced to the room.

"You _were_, Walter. But you broke the tenth commandment of ethics and were excommunicated," Peter said snidely, his eyes hostile from behind his glasses.

Walter looked incredibly embarrassed and stood up from his chair, shuffling over to her.

"Gimme a dollar," he demanded and she opened her top desk drawer to hand him a half dollar along with odd change, knowing he was headed off to the vending machine to ease his woes. As he shuffled off to the office doors, he mumbled, "I was just trying to do the right thing."

Astrid watched him leave, a million thoughts about him running through her head when suddenly a loud shatter made her jump in her seat and turn to look over at Olivia. The blonde was keeled over, clutching at her stomach, her coffee mug broken on the floor.

"Oh god!" she wailed.

Peter jumped from his seat, moving over to her side. "What's wrong?"

"Oh god! What's happening?" Agent Dunham cried out, collapsing to the floor.

"Olivia!" Astrid shouted, running to her side.

"Someone call for help!" Charlie shouted as the agents began to gather around.

"Oh, god! Someone help me!" she screamed, writhing on the floor. "It hurts!"

"Liv!" Charlie shouted, trying to keep her head from swinging back and hitting the tile floor of the office.

The double doors to office opened up and in walked Walter. "There's a blueberry pudding—"

"Walter, **help**!" Astrid cried, absolutely terrified.

Walter dropped the pudding cup and raced over to them, falling to his knees at Olivia's side.

"Olivia, look at me," he said firmly, grasping her face between his hands.

Tears were welling her eyes and her breathing was shallow. Astrid clung to Peter's arm, sure she was watching her friend and fellow coworker dying. Walter on the other hand was as collected as she'd ever seen him.

"Count with me from three to one and come back to us," he ordered the blonde agent.

"Oh god, it hurts!" Olivia cried out, her body convulsing.

Walter ignored her and began counting. "Three."

"Three!" she echoed between her sobs.

"Two," he continued.

"Two!" Olivia wailed, clutching at her stomach.

"One," they recited together and suddenly Olivia's entire demeanor changed, her eyes seeming less cloudy and the look of unbearable pain gone.

"How are you feeling?" Walter asked softly.

Olivia looked calmly from one face to the next. "Like shit. The Rumble Truck came through this morning. Why am I on the ground?"

Peter's brow furrowed. "You need to go to the sick bay—"

"No, she's fine." He offered a hand out and grunted slightly as he helped her off the ground. "Just a little adverse affect. She'll be all right."

"Walter, she was really suffering—"

"She's **fine**!" Walter barked, causing everyone to take a step back.

Olivia dusted herself off, looking a bit frightened as well. "I'm okay."

Astrid looked concerned at the elder of the Bishop. "Walter, what did you do?"

But at this point Walter had returned to where he'd dropped his food from the vending machine.

"My pudding cup!" Walter cried out hysterically, looking horrified to see his treat spilled all over the floor.

Olivia pulled a five-dollar bill out of her wallet and took it over to him. "Why don't you buy yourself another one? On me."

Without another word, Walter wandered off with the money, tracking pudding across the tiles while mumbling to himself about the flavour blueberry.


	9. Chapter Nine

**TITLE:** _Chapter Nine_

**PAIRING:** _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Phillip Broyles, Charlie Francis_

**GENRE:** _Dark_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _840_

**WARNINGS:** _None_

**SPOILERS:** _Anything Season One_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Oh man, I would LOVE to see this version of Peter ;)_

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:** _none_

* * *

_Astrid stood in front of the photocopier, mumbling to herself about sticky buttons and cheap ink when a man in a tweed suit hesitantly stepped into the bustling office of the Fringe Science Unit. He adjusted his glasses and scanned the large room. It was nearly a month into her work with the FSU and she watched him curiously, wondering who he was. The stubble on his cheeks and face suggested he hadn't shaved in at least two days and while his clothes were expensive, she could see they hadn't been pressed in a long time._

_He looked a little nervous until their eyes met. He moved over towards her, his hand nervously playing with the visitor badge around his neck._

"_Could you tell me where Agent Olivia Dunham is?" he asked, his voice soft amid the bustle of junior agents shouting for forms and the phones ringing._

_Astrid pointed over to the centre of the chaos at a blonde wearing black, white, and a Kevlar vest. "She's over there."_

_He didn't say thank you, simply drifted away from her. Astrid cocked her head and decided to abandon the copy machine to see who the strange man was that came specifically for Liv. She straightened up her paperwork and trailed after him._

_The man approached Olivia and gently touched her shoulder to gain her attention. "Are you Agent Olivia Dunham?"_

_Olivia looked so surprised to see this unknown man here in their office, not just touching her. "Yes, I am. And who are you?"_

_He didn't shake her hand, simply took a step back from her, his voice still low. "Professor Bishop of Harvard University. I heard your name on the news last night. I want to talk to you about the Outbreak. I think I know someone who can find a cure."_

_Olivia nodded and motioned him to follow her to one of their interrogation rooms. "If you'll come with me."_

_Charlie was standing near by and exchanged a curious glance with her. The two quickly hurried after them and entered the viewing room behind the two-way mirror to watch. Olivia was no doubt the best of three agents in the FSU to deal with civilians; Astrid couldn't go into an interrogation room without feeling the urge to toss a chair or scream at the top of her lungs and Charlie never seemed to know what to say people who didn't have clearance to know about the Pattern._

"_So you're a professor at Harvard. What studies?" Olivia asked opening the file to write down the personal information of this man. _

_His hand traveled up unconsciously to play with the replica Foucault pendulum hanging around his neck, his fingers worrying the grape sized brass pendent. "Religious, specialising in String Theory."_

"_All right." Olivia smiled kindly at him. "Full name?"_

_He adjusted his glasses once again. "Peter William American Bishop."_

_Olivia nodded as if she already knew this, writing it onto the form. "Residence?"_

"_Cambridge._

_Astrid worried her lower lip then murmured. "His name is familiar."_

_Charlie nodded in agreement, his eyes slightly narrowed as he studied the professor. _

_Olivia opened her mouth to ask another question, but Bishop slammed his hand down on the forms, making Astrid jump. Olivia however hardly flinch. _

"_We can fill out the rest of the paperwork later. Right now we need to talk about my father," he demanded_

_At this Olivia leaned back in her chair, lowering the pen to the papers, her face becoming a mask of consoling. "Professor Bishop, I'm sorry if your father has been affected by the Outbreak, but—"_

_He shook his head violently. "No, __**he's**__ the one who can find a cure for this."_

"_What makes you believe that?"_

"_He was next in line to be the United States' Lucasian Chair of Mathmatics," he explained and then looked slightly embarrassed. "They say he was the one who started the curse."_

_Realisation hit Astrid like a brick wall. "He's Walter Bishop's son?"_

_Unshakeable Olivia's eyes grew large as she looked him over, her pen quickly writing out notes on the file before her. "So your father is a High King's Doctor. Walter Bishop."_

"_Yes. I think—" he paused to correct himself, "no, I __**know**__ he can cure this. If anyone can find a cure, it's him."_

_Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Dr. Bishop in an institution for the criminally insane. I don't know—"_

"_Look, our country needs him right now." Bishop looked conflicted. "My wife died…I can't save her now, but Walter could definitely save others."_

_She brought out her pocket computer, quickly typing in the information she needed, then announced slowly, "It says you'll have to take guardianship of him."_

_Bishop didn't seem as enthusiastic. "There isn't some other way—"_

"_You have to take guardianship of him and I can act as guardian supervisor." She raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him. _

"_All right," he said with a sigh. "Let's go get him."_

_Olivia's eyes widened once again, as did Astrid's and Charlie's. "Now?"_

"_The Outbreak isn't waiting." Professor Bishop stood up. "And neither should we."_


	10. Chapter Ten

**TITLE:** _Chapter Ten_

**PAIRING:** _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Charlie Francis, Phillip Broyles_

**GENRE:** _Dark_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _2173_

**WARNINGS:** _Language, mild sexual humour_

**SPOILERS:** _Seasons One and Two_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _none :P_

**DISCLAIMER:** _none_

* * *

It was evening and while she hated spending ration points, Astrid had been missing the taste of fresh meat and the FBI's canteen was offering a turkey dinner, which seemed too good to pass up. Walter was in the laboratory reworking the orange oil formula with Charlie and Olivia, so she had some time to herself where she didn't have to worry about finding colouring books or empty offices for him to play marbles in… She sighed then breathed in the wonderful aromas of her food. Now here she was, carrying a tray with her dinner into the canteen's seating area. There was only one other person in there and at first she could only see a silhouette against the large glass walls looking out over the city's twilight skyline. As she approached, she realised it was none other than Peter, his work spread out across the small café style table. He looked up and she cleared her throat nervously.

"Good evening," she greeted. "Would you mind if I sat with you?"

"Sure!" He cleared off a space on the table for her to put her tray and spared her a friendly smile. "It would probably be a good thing for me to get some human interaction, huh?"

Astrid had mixed feelings about Peter. On one hand, they came from the same world of duty and obligation, both having grown up during war and hardship, trying to live up to others' expectations, products of political grooming. They both had that sharp edge that helped them get so far in their careers at such a young age. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she liked how quickly he'd given up on his father. She couldn't imagine doing that to any member of her family no matter what crime they had committed.

She nodded her head at his paperwork as she sat down. "What are you up to?"

He handed over a dogeared book. "I'm working on a new preface for my godfather's book. They're releasing a new edition."

"The Young Scholar's Guide to Quantum Mechanics," she read aloud and smiled fondly. "I remember my first copy. When I was just starting to train in the Church. My mom and aunt gave it to me."

Peter nodded. "It's a classic. I was pretty honoured when he asked if I wanted to write the preface."

"Is it weird to know yours is going to take the place of Walter's?" she said carefully as she looked at the cover again where the words _'forward by High King's Doctor Walter Bishop'_ had been marked out with a black sharpie.

"No. It'll be nice to see it with fresh material." His fingers hovered over her asparagus spears. "May I?"

She pushed the plate towards him, very pleased they were having a conversation that wasn't turning ugly as they usually did.

"What's your godfather like? I've read your file and I remember it saying that you lived with him for a while," she said, glancing at the back of the cover where a black and white photo of William Bell smiled up at her.

Her eyes flit up to Peter, hoping she hadn't offended or upset him—their relationship was so delicate that it was easy to piss him off. But Peter didn't seem upset and when he finished chewing, he spoke quietly.

"When Walter was locked up, Belly acted as my guardian. I lived with him until I graduated high school and he made sure I was accepted into the university of my choice. I really don't think I would have ended up where I am today if it wasn't for him."

Astrid quietly took a bite of her dinner to keep from pointing out that Walter would have made sure Peter ended up in any university he'd wanted, but that was something would probably make him mad and she couldn't afford to do any more damage to their already rocky association.

Peter gave her a calculating look. "I've read your file too, Astrid."

"Oh?" She really shouldn't have felt so surprised—he had access to that kind of information now.

He nodded and for the first time since she'd met him, she saw nervousness. "I was wondering if…"

She raised an eyebrow, wondering what it was exactly he was trying to ask.

"Can I…see her ashes?"

Her heart sank, realising that he had assumed that as the head of the cadaver division, she could help him in ways no one else could.

Astrid shook her head. "They were destroyed, too. Standard procedure."

"Can I see the crematory then?" When she hesitated, he added softly, "It's her final resting place."

Astrid wanted to say no because she respected the rules and guidelines that had been decided for the crematorium, but as the keeper of Tess Bishop's final secret, she felt that she owed Peter some sort of solace. "You sure?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

"Let me have the canteen staff pack this for me," she said, suddenly not so hungry anymore.

He nodded enthusiastically, starting to clean up his papers as she stood up with her tray. She felt somewhat forced into this but Peter was part of her team and she'd done favours for others before, why would this be any different? As she watched a redsuit put her dinner in a small box for her to take with her, she sighed heavily and decided her comfort was a small sacrifice to make Peter easier to work with.

Her box of dinner in hand, she returned back to the table where she and Peter had sat. The sun had set and the canteen lights had finally come on, illuminating everything with a white glow. Astrid's eyes moved across his clean shaven face, the expensive tweed suit, and the glare of his glasses' square lenses. He had an unusually friendly look on his face and she gave him a nervous smile back, motioning with a nod of her head to follow her.

From the canteen floor (twenty-one) to the lowest level that could be reached by lift (sub-floor five) took thirty seconds exactly, the mechanical voice of the lift quickly counting down the floors they passed as they stood silently side by side. The cool, silent cement hallway that led to the main stairway was empty as expected during this time of the evening and they quickly decended the stairs to reach sub-floor seven where the crematorium used by the FBI to destroy all cadavers contaminated by the Outbreak was located.

Leaving her dinner box outside the door and swiping the barcode tattoo'd to her upper arm, they entered the decontamination room to put Hazmat suits on so they could safely enter the large room that held the spectacularly large furnace that was used both to heat the entire building and to reduce human flesh into nothing.

"We can only stay in here a few minutes," she said through the helmet's headset. "We don't have on the proper heat garments."

"Understood," he replied and she hit her palm against the large button on the wall that opened the seal.

A blast of heat hit them and while it wasn't uncomfortable, Astrid knew that anything longer than ten minutes would become unbearable. As they walked towards the large round door of the monsterous chamber, Astrid glanced over at Peter; the gloss of the Hazmat suit's face cover shielding his expression. As the head of the religious studies department at Harvard, Astrid somewhat expected him to say something at the site of his wife's final resting place, but he didn't. Silently they stared into the flames behind the thick portal hole of the large door, the heat of the crematorium starting to make her sweat beneath the Hazmat suit.

After they left sub-floor seven, they moved upstairs to sub-floor six; sub-floor six contained the morgue and cryogentic chamber that was used to store the DNA samples of every cadaver that had been contaminated with by the Outbreak. As they walked past the solid glass walls of the refrigerated room, Peter paused. They looked at the shelves containing hundreds of small phials with numbered labels and Peter tapped on the glass.

"What's in there? Is that where they keep the DNA samples?"

"Yes. Cryogenics at their finest." Astrid smiled, proud to be the head of this division of the Fringe Science Unit. "Can you believe it took only a month to construct?"

He continued to stare through the glass at the shelves filled with hundreds of thousand DNA samples as he murmured, "Fascinating."

Astrid could see he was thinking something, but she wasn't sure what it was and it made her uneasy. "Well, we should head back to the office. It's nearly time to go home."

"Of course," he said with a nod, though his eyes didn't leave the phials.

On the lift ride back to floor twenty-five, where the Fringe Science Unit was located, Astrid kept opening her mouth to say something, but all she could think about was, "You and your wife were going to have a child," and it chilled her to think about how he would react to that. When they entered the office however, the sight of Broyles storming towards her made all thoughts of Peter leave.

"Agent Broyles—" she started but he cut her off.

"Agent Farnsworth, I'd hate to have Dr Bishop brought up on charges of Unpatriotic Speech. Maybe you ought to get him under control," he said sternly, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

"Yes, sir," she murmured, her eyes lowered in embarrassment.

Broyles dismissed her to her desk and she pretended to busy with herself with paperwork as her cheeks burned with shame. Walter wandered over, holding a glass bottle of soda he'd bought at one of the hallway's vending machine.

He took a noisy slurp of his drink and said, "Hello."

She pointed to the chair next to hers and with a clenched jaw, instructed, "Please sit down."

Walter sipped from the bottle and casually commented, "Phillip seemed mad at you. Are you going to be fired?"

"Hopefully not anytime soon," she grumbled. "What did you say to him?"

"I asked him what it was like to be half."

She sighed, wishing he wasn't so bizarre. "Half what?"

His reply was so nonchalant that he might just have well have been talking about the weather. "Half Observer,"

"Why would you ask that?!" she shouted, causing the entire office to look over at them.

Walter didn't seem very concerned. "He is, you know. But only half—"

"Damnit, Walter! Don't say that kind of thing!" she hissed, horrified at what he had done, trying to cover his mouth with her hands.

By now Olivia was staring at her with a confused look on her face while she talked on the phone, Charlie had raised his eyebrows in her direction, and Peter was glaring at them both over the top of his glasses while Walter fought her attempt at silencing.

"It's true, though."

She nodded her head over at their superior. "He has eyebrows and eyelashes."

"But faint ones!" the scientist insisted.

"Stop it!" she snapped. "You'll get in trouble!"

"So much for uncovering the truth," he grumbled, glaring at her.

* * *

"I think you need to shave your legs and it appears I've lost my ration card again," Walter commented casually the next morning as he put his freshly laundered trousers in his half of the chest of drawers.

"Walter, your ration card is very valuable! When was the last time you saw it?"

"In the kitchen. Oh! I think I left it in the refrigerator!" he said, slapping his forehead and ran to the kitchen. A moment later he called out, "It's in here!"

"Damnit, Walter," she chastised as he returned to the bedroom.

"It's fine. I don't mind your legs being so prickly," he insisted as he tried tickling her toes.

"I was talking about the ration card," she said with a scowl, feeling a little embarrassed about the fact she hadn't shaved her legs in almost two weeks.

"I hate ration points," he pouted.

"I was born at the end of the Twelve Year Campaign and was raised during the Fifth Peruvian Conflict so I've spent my whole life using them. They aren't that complicated."

He strapped his Kevlar vest on over his oxford. "I just miss spending money in places other than the vending machine. I like dollar bills. And coins."

"The ration card was created for efficiency, Walter. This is the only way the government can ensure that stealing money doesn't occur. With the ration card, money is worthless within Boston. The point system ensures everyone gets a fair amount of food," she said quite pointedly as she finished lacing up her boots.

"I understand the principle, but it's still crap."

Sometimes she couldn't believe how irrational such a smart man was and she shook her head, trying to bite back a smile. "You're so funny. Now c'mon—we have to go pick Olivia and Peter up."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**TITLE:** _Chapter Eleven_

**PAIRING:** _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Phillip Broyles, Nick Lane, Benjamin Kashner, Amy Jessup_

**GENRE:** _Dark_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _5743_

**WARNINGS:** _Dead stuff, language_

**SPOILERS:** _Seasons One and Two_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _lmao this has been planned for over a few months, so imagine my surprise when we got exciting tentacles in 2.10!_

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:** _none_

* * *

It was still early, just past dawn when they pulled up in front of Olivia's brownstone. Walter enthusiastically whacked his fist on the steering wheel to set off the horn and Olivia emerged, hurrying in the locking of the seven deadbolts she had installed on her front door. Like Astrid, this morning Olivia was dressed in her FBI standard uniform, looking very prim and professional in the solid black suit. She still had her tie in her hand and once she climbed into the backseat and said 'good morning', she began to attempt the complicated knot that the FBI dress handbook called for as standard.

In Cambridge they picked up Peter and Walter moved into the backseat with Olivia; Peter took the front passenger seat, as he was prone to carsickness and buckled himself in, obviously trying to ignore his father's happy noises in the back seat.

"How are you this morning, son?" Walter inquired happily.

"I'm fine, Walter," the younger Bishop said gruffly.

Walter was oblivious to fact that his son hadn't asked him how he was in return. "I'm doing fine this morning, as well. I ate some frozen raspberries for breakfast!"

Peter disregarded Walter and looked over at Astrid. "Where are we off to today?"

"North to Miskatonic County," she said as she watched the smoke from a large fire downtown rise into the air.

"Aw, what? They're all a bunch of nutters," Olivia protested, but she didn't hide her laughter.

"I gave a lecture there once," Walter mused, his fingers trying to sneak over the headrest to play with Peter's short hair.

Peter jerked away from his father and adjusted his glasses. "So what are we going up to Lovecraft Country for?"

Astrid pulled the fax they'd received last night out of the centre consol and handed it over to him. "It seems they caught a chimera, but because of their beliefs, they think it's one of their lesser gods. One of our junior agents stationed at the field office in Arkham there called it in."

"A chimera? Where is it?" Olivia asked, leaning forward to take the fax as Peter handed it back to her.

"Currently at one of their temples. The agent's afraid more people are going to be killed by it and that it'll keep breeding if the FBI doesn't intervene."

"How many people have died?" Walter asked.

"Twelve," Astrid answered with a sigh.

"Those people are fucking crazy," Olivia declared. "Letting that thing run wild."

Peter investigated the centre consol further and found the rest of the information she'd stored away, which included photographed autopsies of previously captured chimeras as well as a visitor brochure to the area they were going to visit. "I'm going to read the pamphlet that Miskatonic County puts out, so that everyone in the vehicle knows the laws."

Obviously, that statement was directed at Walter and when Astrid glanced up in the rearview mirror, she could see how that embarrassed him. She wished she could tell Peter what she thought of his snide remarks towards his father, but knew that it would really do no good.

"Welcome to Miskatonic County, the United State's largest Era State!" Peter started loudly, adjusting his bifocals. "Founded in 1938—"

"By scientists who'd inhaled too many fumes," Olivia interjected with a laugh.

"—by enthusiasts of the popular H.P. Lovecraft stories that centred around the great sleeping god Cthulhu. Convinced that Lovecraft had documented actual events happening in the area, locals and wealthy patrons from across New England purchased the land described as making up Miskatonic County. Within the end of the year, the new county folk petitioned the United States Supreme for religious recognition, which was granted by Court Grand Judge William Brad. In 1954 the residents of Miskatonic County managed to obtain an Era State license, making it the first 1920 society and the largest Era State—

"Skip to the Arkham part. That's where we'll be going," Olivia butt in.

Peter obliged. "Arkham is the largest town in Miskatonic county and second oldest. Filled with history and mystery, it has been referred to as 'the crown jewel of the H.P. Lovecraft Society'. Meet our Mayor, High Priest and Presidential hopeful (1992, 1996, 2000, 2004) Hart Williamston III who gives daily tours of the mayoral office.

"See our many museums, historical buildings, and the Chattering Skull Sorority's noon o'clock lunch performance. Visit our many churches open to the public and experience an authentic ceremony! (Tourists are advised not to volunteer during the participation part of any ceremony for their own safety and wellbeing.) Take a tour around Miskatonic University, the only place students can major in occult studies and obtain a degree!"

This earned a gale of laughter from the four Empiricists—magic was hardly something any of them could take seriously.

"Shop at our world famous 'Arkham Farmer's Market', featuring the freshest produce in Massachusetts." Peter sighed. "I do miss the Boston produce markets.

"Special Notes for Our Visitors: Miskatonic County uses Era dollars set to the 1929 monetary rate. Please pick up your currency conversion card at the Chambers of Commerce in Arkham, Kingsport, Innsmouth, and Dunwich."

"The agent waiting for us has ours," Astrid added.

Peter nodded and continued. "We Miskatonians prefer not to use the term 'Lovecraft Country' as it a derogatory term regarding our beliefs and is not the proper name of our home. 'Miskatonic County' or 'Miskatonia' is favoured. We appreciate tourists and modern technology, however we restrict where it may be used. Please avoid using cell phones, laptops, mp3 players, etc in public—it is at the discretion of the property owner whether modern technology is permitted."

"Special note," Astrid interjected, "as government employees, we are exempt from that rule. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Peter continued once again. "Cinematography permits are available upon request at the Arkham Chamber of Commerce. Photography is encouraged—please ask for permission if you wish to photograph the locals! Because Miskatonic County society is set in the 1920's the laws on Prohibition are still in effect. Absolutely no alcohol under any circumstance is permitted. Please do not bring alcohol into the county as it will be confiscated and will result in fines/possible jail time."

"Something tells me that we'll definitely want a drink after this case is closed."

Astrid chuckled while Peter smirked and shook his head. "Members of 'Cthulists for a Modern Society' are not permitted in Miskatonic County. No exceptions. Trespassers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

"Ah, here's something good to know," Peter said. "Miskatonic County offers state of the art health care within its three hospitals. Whether you need treatment for a cold, car accident, or botched sacrifice, you will receive modern medicine as the default form of care. 1920 medicine will be practiced upon request."

"Botched sacrifice?" Olivia laughed. "Was that the part of the brochure that advised us against participating in an authentic ceremony?"

By this time, they'd reached the large south gate to exit the Boston area and after the usual routine of 'we're leaving on official FBI business' and 'here's our paperwork', they had their barcode tattoos scanned and they started their hour and a half trip across the barren Outer Edge to the Edge-of-the-Edge Gate, where they would end up on the south side of walled Boston. From there, they would take NorthWay to Miskatonic County; NorthWay was the large road that led around border of Boston, caught between a green countryside and tall, black, solid steel walls that reached thirty feet tall.

The trip through the Barren was spent helping Walter with his crossword puzzles and proofreading the work Peter was writing; the Edge-of-the-Edge Gate was a welcome sight. About eight miles past the Edge-of-the-Edge Gate on NorthWay, Astrid pulled the SUV over and everyone climbed out to stretch their legs and remove their Kevlar and gators. The fresh air, clean and earthy, along with the warm summer sun made Boston seem as if it were a completely different world.

Walter of course demanded snacks and Olivia graciously took over the duty of passing out bags of crackers and apple slices while they continued on the long drive to Miskatonic County.

* * *

Arkham was a beautiful town: historical brick buildings, citizens dressed as if it was still 1920, summer flowers and thick green trees. Astrid didn't miss the curious looks they received as they drove by from locals walking down the sidewalks; she knew that the FBI agents from Boston hadn't been up to Miskatonia in almost two years and she wondered what they thought about the FSU coming in to investigate.

"Ooh, look Walter! There's Miskatonic River!" Astrid called out, pointing enthusiastically to the large body of water they were approaching.

As they drove over the impressive bridge, Peter read aloud, "It says in the brochure that Miskatonic River is man made, created to replicate the river that Lovecraft described in his books."

"There's the campus," Olivia called out and Astrid turned on the street bordering the Pride of Arkham.

"That's it—the grey brick building on the left!" Walter said happily.

They turned to look at the building, which was sandwiched between a deli and a bicycle shop, and the bottom half of the building had its large windows painted in gold with the words 'Almen's Flowers'. Astrid parked in front of the deli and frowned.

"Are you sure?" Olivia asked skeptically.

Astrid looked at the electronic device on the dashboard of the SUV. "I'm pretty sure. That's where the GPS says it's supposed to be—the base of French Hill and across from the campus at 259 South Garrison Street."

Her attention was drawn to a small door and steps that were tucked between the side of the deli and the back window of the Almen's where a young woman in a replica of the 1920's women's issue FBI uniform sat. Upon seeing them pull up, she'd stood quickly and put her garrison cap on, dusting off her skirt.

Walter was of course drawn the promise of food as they got out of the vehicle. "There's a deli! What time is it?"

Astrid glanced down at her watch, stretching her arms. "A little past ten thirty. Why? Are you hungry?"

"Yes," he said enthusiastically.

"We just got here. You've been eating the whole trip, can't you wait?" Peter sneered.

Walter pulled away from his son slightly and in an apologetic tone said, "My metabolism works unusually fast."

"Damn, I thought I grabbed my clean one," Olivia grumbled as she inspected her own garrison cap.

Astrid carefully pinned hers on, trying to fix the cap at the proper angle without her thick curls messing it up.

"Look all right?" she asked Olivia who nodded. Astrid turned to Walter and said softly, "Hold on and I'll get you something to eat, okay?"

He nodded and began smooth his coat jacket out, fussing his hair in the window reflection.

Astrid hurried around the side of the vehicle to greet the agent who'd been observing them from the steps. "Hello!"

The agent's face lit up and she offered her hand out to Astrid. "Hi, I'm Junior Agent Amy Jessup, agent in charge. I was the one who called the main office."

"I'm Agent Astrid Farnsworth."

"We met at the "Up and Coming" event in Washington DC last year," Jr Agent Jessup said with a smile as parted.

"I remember," Astrid said with a smile and motioned for the others who had joined her. "This is Agent Olivia Dunham, and these are our consultants, Dr Walter Bishop and King's Doctor Peter Bishop."

At this, Jessup's smile faltered. "Bishop? Is there anything else I could call you by? Your surname is considered cursed not just because of the local mythology, but because of that High King's Doctor Bishop who was excommunicated seventeen years ago."

"Knight. We can use the last name Knight," Peter said quickly, adjusting his glasses.

"Excellent. I'll print your new badges in the office." She opened the door and gestured for them to follow. "Trust me, it'll save you a lot of grief."

As they followed up the stairs behind her, Astrid couldn't imagine fighting crime in a skirt, stockings, and low heels—she really had to give Jessup credit for doing a job she loved with a strict and impractical dress code, especially in this muggy summer weather

"So the Miskatonic Field Office—is it worth it?" Astrid asked as she held onto the railing—the stairs were pretty narrow and she didn't want to trip.

"I've saved the Boston office three hundred reports in the three years we've been here," she said looking back at her with a smile. "And I hear that the Boston Office is working on a cure for the Outbreak?"

Astrid shrugged. "Trying to."

"It's not much," Jessup announced as they reached the top of the stairs and saw an unassuming door with a glass front that had the large gold seal of the FBI with the words 'Miskatonic Field Office' etched underneath it, "but it's ours."

The office was small, half the size the FSU office back in Boston and was cramped with four desks, twelve large file cabinets, and a life-sized replica marlin on the west wall. A man sitting behind one of the desks, also in 1920's men's issue FBI uniform though his cap was tucked into his belt. Upon seeing them, he stood up came to greet each one of them.

"Hello," Astrid greeted, taking off her cap and shaking his hand.

"Agent Benjamin Kashner," he introduced.

Niceties exchanged, Walter wandered over to the faux marlin, studying it curiously. "Why do you have this?"

Jessup looked somewhat embarrassed as she retrieved a file from her desk. "Oh, that was a office warming present."

"Classy," Peter smirked.

"Here's the information we have so far." As Astrid took the file, Jessup removed her cap and tucked it back in her belt. "I've read your files on the data base—ours seems smaller than the one's you're killed. I was wondering if it was a juvenile or possibly a female? Anyway, you'll be able to tell us when we go out to see it."

Astrid passed a series of pictures showing the wild creature caged up in a strong iron cage on top an alter over to both Bishops, who poured over them as Jessup began printing out their new badges. "And while I know we run the risk of more showing up, I did read that the creatures start off in a larval stage—part of the religious beliefs here among the Miskatonians is that bodies are cremated, so I believe that anything growing in the deceased has been destroyed."

"I'd need to see the ashes to make sure nothing's living in the bones or the rest of the remains," Peter said as he perused the paperwork.

"Of course." Jessup handed over two small plastic identification cards. "Here are your badges, Doctor and King's Doctor Knight."

"Thank you," Peter said, still too busy studying the case to take the card.

Astrid carefully attached Walter's to the series of badges he had strapped around his neck already and gave him a secret smile before letting him return his attention back to the photographs that she looked at, too.

There was knocking on the office door to the tune of 'Chattanooga Choo Choo' and the six turned to look at the outline at the door.

Kashner's face fell. "Oh no, Mr Lane."

"Who?" Olivia asked.

"He's the local private detective," Jessup explained, quickly checking her hair in the reflection of the window.

"Local _hack_" Kashner mumbled under his breath.

Jessup hurried over to the door. "He's the guy who called it in to us."

In entered a lanky blond man who gave quick smile to Jessup but stared curiously at all those from Boston.

"I saw the automobile parked in front," he said and took off his hat, offering out his hand. "You must be the Boston Agents. I'm Nick Lane, Arkham's resident private detective."

"Agent Farnsworth," Astrid greeted.

"Dunham," Olivia said with a smile and then gestured over to the two Bishops. "These are our consultants, Dr Walter Knight and King's Doctor Peter Knight."

"Walter Knight. Have we met before? You seem very familiar," Walter said as they shook hands. "Did you ever live in Boston?"

Lane grinned. "I've never left Miskatonia in my life."

"Hmmm…" Walter pondered as he watched the man.

Lane turned his attention back to Astrid and Olivia. "So you've come to tell us that this so called 'chimera' isn't actually one of the children of The Dweller of the Gulf?"

"No…" Astrid tried to imagine was The Dweller of the Gulf might possibly be. "I apologise—we're very ignorant of the locals' religious beliefs."

"That's why I'm here," Jessup said with a laugh and pulled her hat out of her belt. "Shall we go see it? It's within walking distance"

The seven left the office and by then a small crowd had gathered around outside the flower shop down stairs, looking at the uniformed agents and at the modern FBI vehicle. Kashner lingered behind for a moment to talk to the crowd as Jessup led them towards the church where the chimera was being kept. To Astrid's surprise, Lane and Olivia paired off to walk some distance behind the rest of them; she could hear them discussing secret societies in the Miskatonic University and a vast tunneling system beneath it.

"Well, they're certainly getting along, aren't they?" Walter murmured over to her.

"Two peas in a pod," she agreed.

Olivia was usually so guarded around others, so it was extremely unusual to see how quickly she'd warmed up to the local detective so quickly and without reservation.

Less than six blocks away, there was an aging church that had been taped off with vibrant yellow crime scene tape, which the seven of them ducked under. Within the church atop the main alter was a large cage containing a German Shepard-sized chimera, spitting and hissing at their arrival.

"Male, small," Walter declared as they stood a safe distance from it. "Where am I to work?"

"Ah! Out here!"

Jessup led them out a side door of the main area of worship and they walked a few metres away to something that looked like a large windowless shed placed atop wheels; at the end opposite the side with the door, Astrid noted a trailer hitch.

"What's this?" Walter asked in confusion

"Our mobile lab," Kashner explained. "We had to make it look like a period piece."

"I like it," Olivia commented with a smile.

"The inside is better, trust me. And it probably won't fit all of us if we move the chimera in there," Jessup pointed out as she pulled a key out of her skirt's pocket and walked up its folding steps to unlock the door.

Inside was the absolute opposite of the 1920s façade; polished steel and pristine, hermetically sealed white walls that seemed far more professional and familiar to Astrid who was used to the lab back home in Boston that looked much the same.

Walter spent a few moments alongside his son, fretting over medical tools and devices for performing an autopsy before he shooed them out and they stood on the lawn once more.

"Peter, come help me sedate it." Walter paused and looked back at them. "Agent Kashner, Mr Lane, if you would assist as well."

"I'm going to go talk to the deacon," Jessup mumbled before hurrying off towards the curious locals hovering around the crime tape along with angry parishioners.

Astrid leaned over to the agent and hissed, "Olivia, we have to destroy it. We can't let them keep this up here! One of those crazies will probably let it go! We're just lucky they caught this one."

Olivia nodded fervently as they watched the now sedated chimera being carried from the church to the mobile lab. "Yeah, but they're never going to let us kill it, let alone take it away."

"Jessup." Astrid gestured for the other female agent to come over to her and Olivia. "We can't let this stay up here. We have orders to destroy all chimera."

Jessup sighed as Kashner, Lane, and the Bishops emerged from the trailer, coming over to them. "I was afraid you'd say that. This is going to cause a riot."

Astrid glanced over nervously at the crowd of curious, though tense onlookers; she'd always felt these cultists were fanatics and while she'd dealt with their kind before, there was only one of her and many of them…

Jessup spoke once more, drawing her attention to the other agent.

"You know what we could do…" Jessup said, tapping the pen cap against her bottom lip. "Ben, do you have any more of that polyresin that you encased all those beetles in? You know, the ones for the festival?"

"Yes," Kashner replied.

"How much?"

He shrugged. "A lot. I bought it in bulk."

Jessup turned to the local detective. "Nick, go get all your figure casting supplies. I have an idea."

"What are you thinking?" Astrid asked curiously.

Jessup looked at her. "You know that marlin in the office? Nick made that. What if we make a life-sized facsimile of the chimera out of plaster of Paris, paint it to match the real one, set it in a big block of polyresin, and say that it's the real thing?"

Everyone exchanged glances nervously before anyone spoke.

"I don't know. That seems a little unethical," Kashner said apprehensively.

"It's the only way we can make everyone happy," Jessup said.

Peter sighed. "I think it's really the only option we have."

No one seemed to have any other suggestion, so Astrid finally said, "I can stand behind this."

Olivia nodded as well. "Me too."

Jessup clasped her hands. "It's settled then! We're going to make ourselves a chimera!"

* * *

It was around ten in the evening when Lane declared the plaster dry enough to be painted. It had already been dyed a vague murky green and now it was time to paint it assorted shades of grey by hand. Astrid, Olivia, Peter, Walter, and Nick Lane were inside the mobile lab with small brushes, working on the facsimile; Jessup and Kashner had gone home for the night, promising to be back early to intercept any nosy locals that might try to take a peek at what they were up to and once the other agents had left, Astrid and Olivia had moved in to work, there now being enough room to accommodate them.

Olivia had brought their SUV back over to the site and after the chimera had been put down, it was packed into the crate that the plaster had been stored in, already secreted into the back of the vehicle.

It was hot and cramped in the mobile lab and Astrid had been forced to strip off her uniform shirt to cool off, her tie tucked in her trousers' back pocket. Olivia's unbuttoned the top few buttons of her uniform and loosened her tie, while the three men had rolled up their sleeves. The top vents of the trailer were open all the way and off in a marsh behind the church they could hear crickets and frogs.

Walter yawned and handed his brush over to Astrid. "I'm exhausted."

"Go sleep on the backseat of the SUV. It's warm and safe in there," she said gently and he nodded.

"Lovecraft Country smells boggy," he declared before he parted for the night.

"He's an odd one," Lane commented after Walter shut the trailer door.

"That's a nice way of putting it," Peter muttered darkly as he compared the photo of the hindquarter to what he was painting.

Lane pulled his suspenders back on and looked over at Dunham. "Olivia, I know what you're thinking right now."

"Oh? And what is that?" she asked, her tone skeptical.

"You want to go to those tunnels under the campus and find the students' speakeasy."

Astrid saw Olivia's eyes widened. "How did you—"

Lane put his hat on. "I told you—we're two of a kind!"

Astrid kept back a smile. "We need you back in two hours."

"We'll be right back!" Olivia giggled as she allowed herself to be led out by Nick Lane.

Now that they were alone together, the silence between Astrid and Peter became awkward and they worked carefully on painting before he pointed out, "I thought she was looking for an assigned relationship with the FBI."

Astrid kept her attention on the small scales she was detailing. "She is. I don't think they're interested in one another 'that way'. Besides, I don't see a Cultist and an Empiricist working out in the long run."

"Very true," he agreed.

There was silence between them once more and she continued working on adding detail to what would be the paws, carefully painting on the claws as well as small flecks of brown as though it were dirt while he added little strands of hair randomly to the tail, gluing each one individually.

Time passed and all was quiet between them until she finished working on the plaster feet and decided to start painting the body. There was a fan brush that she suspected might work best for applying the faintest layer of silver glimmer over the plaster, but she chose to consult the sheet of paper Lane had typed out with quick notes on painting techniques. Like every other child in America, she'd taken the required art classes in school, but she'd never been particularly artistic so this was a challenge that was somewhat daunting to her—there was absolutely no room for errors with this one! Peter began to speak while she read over the paper.

"If you paint the silver, then the grey, it creates a mottled shine as though it's scales. Then with the brown antiquing, rub it over the entirety of the plaster after you've painted it. Use the flat fan brush to bronze dust over it and—" Suddenly his hand covered the paper she was reading and startled, she looked up at him. "Do you think you could listen to what I'm saying? I'm telling you what I'm telling you for a _reason_."

She jerked the paper out from under his hold. "I _am_ listening. I was just checking this—"

He pulled the paper away from her and crumpled it up, tossing it behind his shoulder. "If you listen to what I say, you don't have to read this piece of paper."

"There is nothing wrong with making sure you're doing the right thing!" she cried, tossing her hands up.

His jaw was gritted. "I know what I'm doing and you don't have to double check."

She placed one hand on her hip and flicked a loose curl out of her face. "How on _earth_ did you become a professor?"

"Why? Can't keep up?" he sneered.

"You're such a jackass," she declared.

Peter pushed his glasses back on his nose. "I can't see how even Walter could stay with you."

She blinked. "I'm not _stupid_."

"_Really_?"

"Fuck you!" she shouted, throwing her brush on the table.

"If you stop painting, we're not going to finish. Pick up your damn brush," he said snidely.

"Why do you always have to have the last damn word?" she shouted.

"Why are you sleeping with my father?" he yelled, jabbing his finger at her.

"This is what all of this is about? _Really_ mature, Peter," she sneered.

"Yeah and it's _really_ professional to be fucking the man you're supposed to be watching."

Astrid flinched. Peter was the only person she knew who would openly talk about anything of a sexual nature, something that was frankly toeing the line of Obscenity laws.

She felt flustered and stumbled around with her words. "You have no right to bring that up! It's none of your business who I have relations with—"

"Relations! I'd call it more than that!"

"What does it even matter?" she shouted. "I do my job day in and day out! I take care of him while you feel bad for yourself!"

"Screw you," he hissed, throwing the paintbrush down and storming out of the trailer.

Astrid stood there, breathing hard, her heart pounding, and her fists clenched. She hated arguing but Peter was a special exception—he always knew the right buttons to press! The door opened and she inhaled sharply, ready to fight more with Peter but also ready to apologise. However it wasn't Peter, just Olivia and Lane. Astrid quickly made an attempt to compose herself.

"What's going on?" Olivia asked, looking incredibly concerned. "Do you need help?"

"That would be great," she said, turning her face away so they wouldn't see she'd been close to tears.

Lane grabbed her by the arm. "If he's causing you trouble, I'm more than happy to—"

"No, no. It was nothing." Astrid picked up her paint brush and sighed. "I just want to get this finished."

* * *

By sunrise, the painted plaster chimera was being set in a giant block of clear polyresin as per Agent Kashner's detailed instructions.

"One lesser god for the people of Arkham," Astrid announced, staring at the incredibly realistic creation.

"I wish I could add this to my resume," Lane joked as they emerged from the trailer.

Astrid sighed heavily, stretching her arms and breathing in the fresh country air as they stood on the grass.

"If you ladies will excuse me," Lane said politely before wandering off towards the church.

"We can leave once Jessup and Kashner show up," Olivia commented as she stretched her hamstrings.

"We'll need to round everyone up," Astrid commented, not wanting to say Peter's name directly.

Olivia nodded and pulled her cellphone out, dialing the number belonging to the missing Bishop.

"Hello, Peter. I was wondering where you were? We've finished." She paused and the slightest flicker of surprise crossed Olivia's face. "Oh. I see. Shall I—you'll walk? All right, see you in a few minutes."

"Where is he?" Astrid muttered.

"Hotel. He said he couldn't put up with your incompetence and Walter's snoring so he took a room for the night," Olivia said without enthusiasm.

Astrid kicked angrily at a clod of dirt on the lawn. "Of course."

"You're a very good agent," Dunham said gently.

"I shouldn't be with his father."

"It's not Peter's business. You could have developed the relationship even if he was still caring for him. You have nothing to apologise for, Astrid." Olivia fumbled with the end of her tie. "But that's just my opinion."

Wandering out of the cemetery, Walter ambled over to them, waving hello. "Good morning. I just saw a rabbit!"

"Good morning, Walter. Did you sleep well?" Olivia asked, looking somewhat amused.

"That back seat is very comfortable. I liked it. Not as good as my mattress, but there were less legs to get tangled up with mine, so I suppose it was a good compromise." Oblivious to the red faces of both women, he looked at the mobile lab excitedly. "Ooh! Is the facsimile set?"

"It's setting right now. It should be done by tomorrow evening," Olivia said.

"Wonderful! May I see it? Is Peter there?"

Thankfully, Astrid didn't have to answer him as their attention was drawn elsewhere. Strolling across the churchyard carrying a small box came Junior Agent Jessup.

"Agent Farnsworth! Agent Dunham! I didn't expect you up!"

"We didn't get much sleep—too busy working," Astrid said.

Jessup peered over their shoulder curiously at the mobile lab. "Is it done?"

"Yes. And in the polyresin," Olivia added.

Lane returned and tipped his hat to the agent, smiling. "Hello, Agent Jessup."

"Mr Lane," Jessup said politely then offered out the box she'd been holding. "I brought you all pastries and coffee…Where's King's Doctor Knight?"

"He took a hotel room for the evening," Astrid said coolly as Walter began to reach for the sweets.

"Peter!" Walter cried out cheerfully and they turned to see him walking up to the churchyard.

Astrid honestly didn't want to be anywhere near him, so she quickly asked, "Would you two like to see it?"

She led them along with Lane into the mobile lab and showed the large square mold that the chimera facsimile was in, covered by the still gummy, though completely transparent.

"It looks so real!" Walter gasped as they peered down at it.

Jessup's grin stretched ear to ear. "It looks great."

"My best work ever," Lane announced proudly.

"I don't ever want to have to do it again," Olivia said with a laugh.

"I need to collect flora and fauna specimens before I leave!" Walter said loudly and left the trailer.

Astrid hurried out after him and unexpectedly ran straight into the one person she was trying to avoid. Suddenly Astrid found herself caught in a staring contest with Peter. She could tell from his expression he was expecting an apology for the words she'd said last night. Astrid decided she was not going to be the first person to say anything. She was done dealing with him. If he was going to be nice, then fine, but if all he wanted to do was—

"Aster! C'mere! I found caterpillars!"

Her eyes stayed on his a moment more before she turned. "Coming, Walter!"

* * *

The drive back to Boston was quiet; the tension between Astrid and Peter had obviously affected the dynamics of the four, but at the moment, she really didn't care. Peter was an inconsiderate, temperamental, vulgar, know-it-all and she was fed up with the way he treated her and Walter, as though he was being victimised by the choice he'd made to get his father out of his hair.

The third row of seats was folded down to accommodate the chimera body that was tucked into a crate to be taken back to Boston and Olivia had graciously offered to drive so that Peter was up front with her. Walter was fast asleep with his head against the door and Astrid mindlessly rubbed his nape, staring blankly at the road.

But this ever-growing divide between she and Peter was doing them all no favours and if she didn't want irreversible damage done, she knew she had to do whatever it took to fix it. She sighed and sure no one was looking, she leaned over and kissed Walter's temple.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**TITLE:** _Chapter Twelve_

**PAIRING:** _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Phillip Broyles_

**GENRE:** _Dark_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _1630_

**WARNINGS:**_ None_

**SPOILERS:** _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _I missed 1.20 so I wrote this to occupy my time._

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:** _none_

* * *

"Astrid!"

Astrid, who was talking to one of the FBI's professional interrogators they'd brought up to get information out of a suspect that refused to speak, turned around to see Olivia approaching her, carrying a file. Astrid promised to catch up with the interrogator later and stood with Olivia in narrow hallway that led to interrogation rooms and storage closets.

"You still have connexions in the Patriot Division, right?" she asked and Astrid nodded.

"Yes?"

Olivia gave her a sly smile and waved a thin file at her. "Good! I just got the dossier back on my AA and he's a Patriot Agent."

"What's his name?" Astrid asked, leaning her shoulder against the wall.

"John Scott."

Astrid's eyes widened, knowing instantly who it was she was talking about. "John? Oh, you'll like him! He's very committed to his job."

Olivia glanced over the papers again. "It says he has a son?"

Astrid nodded. "Maximillian. He was the assigned child he and his previous AA applied for."

At this, Olivia looked back up at her. "_Previous_ AA?"

"She was killed in 9-11," Astrid said softly and in that moment, the two women picture a burning White House seven years previous.

"Oh." Olivia bit her lower lip. "Do you think he'd like me?"

Astrid nodded fervently. "Absolutely."

The sly look returned as did Olivia's smile. "Is he cute?"

"Was who cute?" someone behind Olivia interrupted and together they turned to see Agent Broyles.

"No one, sir," they both answered quickly.

His eyes shifted between them for a moment before he said, "The medical cart is here. I suggest you go to your desks."

"Yes, sir."

FBI agents were classified into three categories: Red Agents, Blue Agents, and White Agents. Astrid and the other agents in the FSU were White Agents, the ones with the highest security clearance and worked on the most secretive of cases. Of course there were a few junior agents that worked in the FSU, being groomed for service and work as the best of the best, but they were still Blue Agents, those who worked everything else. The Red Agents, or 'Redsuits', weren't actually agents, but employees that did the little jobs that kept the FBI a well-oiled machine. Secretaries, cooks, custodians all made up the fleet of Redsuits that worked in the building; today, a Redsuit medical unit was distributing the monthly vaccinations, boosters, and injections to the agents assigned in the FSU.

Astrid sat at her desk, shirtsleeve rolled up as a Redsuit consulted her medical papers over a pocket computer. "Today you'll be receiving the TS shot along with your vitamin and a hay fever shot."

Astrid nodded. "That's right."

The TS shot, which stood for 'Temporary Sterilization', was a voluntary shot that the adult citizens of Boston received once a month—pregnancy in the middle of the Outbreak was a death sentence. Astrid grimaced as the large needle pushed into her skin—honestly, have getting these shots for over a year, she would have thought she could handle them better now!

"King's Doctor Bishop will need to report to the medical floor to have his injections," a Redsuit told Broyles, who looked at the empty desk Peter usually occupied.

"Where _is_ Peter?" Olivia asked as she winced while a needle slipped into her upper arm.

"I don't know. Maybe he's in the cafeteria." Astrid thought for a moment. "I haven't see him since this morning."

Walter seemed to be sweet-talking the Redsuit attending to him. "Might I have the pleasure of injecting myself?"

Astrid shrugged and the Redsuit handed over the assortment of needles to the older man, who gleefully stuck it in his lower arm below his elbow. Walter gave a satisfied sigh as he pushed the fluid into his blood stream, happily discarding the spent needles into the biohazard container.

Alarms suddenly sounded and a flashing red light on the east wall strobed angrily. The main door into the FSU was already shut and they could hear the sound of the metal plated door on the outside rolling down to keep them safe.

"Level Red! We're on lockdown!" Charlie announced to the office and everyone turned to Broyles.

Astrid's pocket computer chimed and she pulled it out to look at the screen. "It's the seal to the cryo unit."

"It's probably another malfunction—it'll get cleared in no time," Olivia said, rolling her eyes.

"No! The vending machines! They're all _alone_," Walter whimpered.

She patted his hand. "They'll be fine. But I wish we could have been trapped in the canteen."

"Anyone not standard to this office needs to come with me," Broyles ordered and the Redsuits abandoned their carts to go with him. The senior agent glanced over at them. "Agent Farnsworth, Agent Francis."

Astrid rolled down her sleeve and opened her bottom desk drawer where she stored extra handcuffs. Charlie was doing the same and as they walked together to an interrogation with Broyles and the Redsuits, she gave him a teasing smile.

"Did Olivia tell you that she got her AA dossier today?"

At this he raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Anyone we know?"

"A certain head Patriot Agent," she said her smile getting bigger.

He stopped in his tracks. "Not John."

Astrid laughed and nodded. "Yes John."

They continued walking and Astrid could see that Charlie was happy for his partner. "That is a match made perfect."

In the interrogation room Broyles had taken the Redsuits to, Astrid and Charlie began to handcuff and frisk the potential suspects—one never knew when sabotage and traitorous intentions were afoot. As she finished patting down the third Redsuit, her pocket computer chimed again and she had Charlie handcuff the man while she answered it.

On the screen was a security guard. "Agent Farnsworth, the security breach has been determined as a faulty response in the system."

"Nothing's been damaged?" she asked, stepping out into the hallway.

"We couldn't see anything."

She frowned as she hurried back to her desk to grab her Kevlar. "I should go down and check. As head of the cadaver division."

The security guard nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

As she slipped her vest on she instructed, "I need the FSU door released and an escort down."

"Your thighs are going to be killing you if you have to go down all those flights by yourself and then back up again," Walter murmured in amusement, sitting in her chair as he twirled a pen in his fingers.

Astrid grimaced as she realised that was twenty-five flights of stairs plus the six subfloor levels.

"Is the elevator unlocked?" she asked the man on the other end of her pocket computer.

"No, ma'am."

She turned away from Walter's grin. "Crap. Okay, I'll be waiting.

It took only five minutes for a small unit of security agents to arrive to escort her down and by the time she reached subfloor six, her adrenalin had kicked in. There was already a small patrol unit of security agents waiting down by the cryogenic storage doors.

"Hmmm…" she pondered as she studied the door.

Nothing looked wrong or off, easing her worries slightly.

"Did the camera's pick anything up?" she asked, turning to look at the security agent in charge.

"Still on the fritz. It's the wiring in the walls. Something keeps interfering with it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Damn."

"It doesn't look like the seal was penetrated, though."

"It must have been the wiring," she agreed in a low, but still suspicious murmur. "Has it been dusted for prints?"

"Yes, ma'am. Nothing but people who belong down here."

"Let's keep an eye on it. Have the lockdown removed."

"Yes ma'am." The agent pulled out a pocket computer and contacted the security room. "Agent Edwards, Cadaver Division leader Agent Farnsworth has signed off on the security breach false alarm. Requesting permission to remove lockdown status."

Astrid turned to leave. "I'll start filling out the paperwork when I get back up stairs."

By the time she reached the field office Lobby, the elevators were back up and running, mercy on her legs. On floor seven the door opened and to her surprise Peter joined her.

"Hey, what was the lockdown for?" he asked her curiously.

She shook her head, secretly happy he wasn't in a bad mood. "Bad wiring down in the cryo unit. It's happened before. Something about the wiring being interfered with."

He raised an eyebrow. "Deliberate?"

"No." She looked up at him. "Hey, you missed your shots."

He looked a little caught off guard. "Oh. Coffee and paperwork."

"Ah."

"Want to walk with me to the medical bay?" he asked, giving her a friendly smile.

This was a surprise. Less than two days ago they were at each other's throat in Arkham. "Sure."

Her pocket computer chimed and as she lifted it up, she could see Walter glaring at Charlie. "I can _**too**_ get this contraption to work—Ah! Hello, my dear! Is everything all right?"

She nodded. "No problem at all, Walter. Bad wiring. I'm with Peter. We'll be back up in fifteen minutes."

He smiled at her and said in a low, but utterly thrilled tone, "Agent Francis and I are playing marbles."

She chuckled. "That's great, Walter."

Walter smiled at her and she could see his cheeks had a slight tinge of pink to them. She blushed as well, though she felt guarded with Peter standing so close.

"I'll be back up soon," she said in as professional a tone as she could manage.

"I'll win all of Agent Francis' marbles for you," the scientist said fondly before he signed off.

Astrid managed to hold back her smile, but was surprised when Peter said amicably, "I'm glad Walter's happy."

She smiled again; the elevator chimed on the medical floor and they walked together.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**TITLE:** _Chapter Thirteen_

**PAIRING:** _Walstrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Astrid Farnsworth,_ _Walter Bishop, Peter Bishop, Olivia Dunham, Phillip Broyles_

**GENRE:** _Dark_

**RATING:** _M_

**SUMMARY:** _life in the mirror world_

**WORD COUNT:** _2266_

**WARNINGS:** _Violence, language_

**SPOILERS:** _1.18_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _I missed 1.20 so I wrote this to occupy my time._

_**DISCLAIMER**_**:** _none_

* * *

_Astrid sat on the visitor's bench in the main hallway of St. Claire's right outside the main office door, reading a battered copy of a book on the plausibility of multiple universes. Professor Bishop, Charlie, and Olivia were talking to the head of St. Claire's and she'd already finished the paperwork releasing a certain seventeen-year inmate from his sentence._

_Someone sat down beside her and she turned her head slowly to look over at the man. It was a face familiar, though radically changed by years of being locked up in a hospital for the criminally insane. He looked wild, both in his appearance and in his eyes. The drab blue jumpsuit he wore bore a printed sequence of numbers instead of a name, but she knew who he was. She'd only been nine when he'd been locked away; his face had been plastered over every newspaper, his crimes described on every tv station, his name repeated over every radio. _

"_Hello," the man said cheerfully._

_She nodded and closed the book, letting it rest in her lap. "Hello."_

"_Your hair is very curly," he stated quite pleasantly._

"_You hair is fairly curly, too," she observed._

"_I have a beard because they won't let me shave. I do not usually look this disheveled, I assure you, my dear." He let a finger rest atop the cover of the book and she realised he'd authored it. "I am former High King's Doctor Walter English-American Bishop."_

"_Special Agent Astrid Norway-America Farnsworth," she said, offering out her hand._

_He smiled and accepted her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."_

_She couldn't help but surrender a slight smile of her own. "Likewise."_

* * *

It wasn't until the next day that the situation with the cryogenic storage facility made any sense to Astrid. Reporting down the cadaver division office on the fifth subfloor to gather notes to deliver to Walter's lab and to check on any potential problems with today's delivery of contaminated bodies, Astrid noticed something amiss. On the top of usually unoccupied counter sat a large metal box used to transport tissue samples.

"What the hell?" Astrid murmured as she went over to it; she hadn't been aware that anyone had requested specimens.

Agent Flanders came out of the restroom and smiled at her. "Agent Farnsworth, did you want me to give you the tissue samples you asked for?"

"I didn't request tissue samples." She paused and turned to look at Flanders, suddenly very suspicious. "What was the cadaver number?"

"899045," he said looking down at his pocket computer.

While she didn't have cadaver numbers memorized as a habit, this one wasn't so forgettable.

"That son of a bitch," she snarled and turned around, stomping over to the lab phone.

She swiped her ID badge against the phone and dialed the data office.

"Good afternoon, Agent Farnsworth. How may I help you?"

"Bring up all the files I've accessed in the past week—no, the past month—and print out the list in the lab," she instructed.

"Yes, ma'am. It should be ready in one minute."

Astrid hung up and crossed her arms as she watched the lab's printer begin to spit out paper after paper of what she'd accessed with her badge number in the past month. She began to scour the lists of anything that looked out of place and was quick to find out things that simply didn't belong in her records.

_HKDr Walter English-American Bishop vs United States: Video File_

_HKDr Walter English-American Bishop vs United States: Court Transcript_

_HKDr Walter English-American Bishop vs United States: Court Documents_

_HKDr Walter English-American Bishop vs Church of Empiricism: Video File_

_HKDr Walter English-American Bishop vs Church of Empiricism: Court Transcript _

_HKDr Walter English-American Bishop vs Church of Empiricism: Court Documents_

By the time the twentieth page finished, she was livid. She knew for a fact she hadn't requested any of these files EVER. They weren't classified documents but obviously _he_ didn't want anyone to know he'd been looking at them in the first place. Tissue samples, court records…this was all adding up to something that was starting to disturb her.

She stalked out of the lab, ignoring Flanders who called after her and pulled out her pocket computer, calling up the main desk.

"Where is Peter Bishop?" she barked, not giving the receptionist time to greet her.

She could hear typing of keys and the receptionist announced, "He is currently on the fourteenth floor, fifth sector, hallway two."

"Ground him," she growled.

When she reached the location Peter was at on the fourteenth floor, he was still standing almost in the centre of the large, brightly lit corridor, staring down at his pocket computer in confusion; obviously he'd never received a grounding call that told him to stay exactly where he was. He didn't notice her approaching at all.

She shoved him with his back against the wall and hissed, "What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

His pocket computer clattered to the floor and he looked at her, eyes wide in puzzlement, glasses slipping down his nose slightly. "What? I was going to get lunch—"

"Requesting your wife's tissue samples! Going through your father's old papers! Reviewing the court transcripts!" She jabbed a finger accusatorially in his face. "I bet you were the one who caused the security breach yesterday!"

"You can't prove it was me," he whispered nastily, bringing his face only an inch away from hers.

Astrid took a step back. "You're planning on bringing her back! You're going to break the exact same commandment that your father broke so that you can get her back—"

"She's my wife—"

"She's dead!" Astrid shouted.

Peter shook his head and in quiet voice, denied her. "Nothing is ever truly dead."

"Peter, I swear that I will do everything in my power to stop you from going forward with this," Astrid threatened.

"I hope you're ready for a fight then," he warned.

"And I hope you're ready to _lose_," she hissed.

She straightened her blazer, trying to get her emotions under control.

"I'm having all your access to the archives terminated," she said coolly. "You won't be able to access any files in the FBI database unless I do it for you. I will also be notifying the data office that it will require both badge number and biosensor reading which is much harder to fake."

Peter glared at her maliciously but said nothing.

"And don't bother coming over for dinner tonight," she added before she turned and left.

* * *

"Fajitas!" Walter sang as they entered their flat that late afternoon.

Astrid tossed her handbag on the floor next to the living room desk. "Peter's not coming over tonight."

Walter turned around, his eyes wide. "What? Why?"

She went over to the fridge and opened it up, looking inside for something to make for dinner. "I told him not to come over."

Walter touched her shoulder, prompting her to turn to him. She sighed, not wanting to talk about any of this at all.

"Walter, Peter's been accessing your files. All the ones the court seized. Do you know why he'd want them?"

Walter nodded and let her go, wandering over to the stovetop to pick at something burned on the range.

"You know," he said softly, "that Peter really wanted me out of St. Claire's so I could bring his wife back to life."

"That traitor! He used us!" She balled her hands into fists. "He only wants a cure for the Blight for his own selfish reasons."

"Love is always selfish and always selfless," Walter murmured, pulling plates out of the cabinets above the stove.

Astrid couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Are you serious? Walter, that's what you were put away for—unauthorised reanimation of a human corpse."

Walter nodded slowly. "He was so worth it though…"

The sudden realisation of what he meant hit her like a ton of bricks. "Walter, was Peter the one you reanimated _illegally_? You've told me that you brought him back to life…but I thought surely you would have done the paperwork to authorise it!"

Anyone fortunate enough to be reanimated also was granted anonymity which was why it never occurred to Astrid to check whether Peter had been granted life legally or not. At this time, there were only two people in the world who knew how to reanimate and she was in the kitchen with one of them.

Walter looked heartbroken. "If anyone finds out it was him, he'll be destroyed! Unauthorised Walkers are considered an abomination of Science!"

"I will keep this secret, Walter, but only because I…" she couldn't bring herself to say 'love' simply because he hadn't said it first and she ignored finishing the sentence. "If anyone finds that I know the identity of the Walker and have kept the information to myself, I'll be excommunicated and locked away in prison for life."

He said nothing and she pushed a spiraled curl out of her face. "I told Peter that he no longer had access to your work and I've put him under watch whenever he goes into the lab."

"He wants to bring her back himself," Walter murmured, his eyes widening.

"Peter's wife was cremated. I oversaw her remains' destruction."

"You saved her DNA, though."

"No one will have access to it. Only me. I've put it on the highest lockdown I could," she said firmly, making it clear he would not be an exception.

"What if I cloned Tess-on-the-Otherside?" Walter asked thoughtfully. "Do you think he'd love me then?"

"Tess-on-the-Otherside isn't the real Tess though. You're not going to know how to reprogramme her cells' memories. And what if this Tess doesn't fall in love with him? What then? You're tempting the majesty of the Universe, Walter," she warned.

"Peter's worth it," Walter said softly.

"Walter, you'll be **executed**. Peter's happiness isn't worth that," Astrid argued.

What happened next was completely unexpected for her. Walter's hand caught her on the side of the face, leaving her stunned.

"How **dare** you tell me what anything is worth!" he shouted. "Especially anything concerning Peter. I was willing to die for him, you stupid girl! I would have happily accepted execution for what I'd done! What do you know about love and happiness? You're just a child who has allowed the convenience of a roommate to take the place of real relationship! Your stupid messiah complex has made you think that love is being a knight in shining armour for someone you regard as defenseless!"

Astrid held her face, eyes watering. How could she reply to something like that? Arguing with Peter Bishop was just about seeing who could be loudest, but arguing with Walter Bishop meant she was going to hear the ugly truth and she couldn't tell him that he was wrong…because he _wasn't_.

Walter threw the large ceramic serving dish to the floor and she flinched as it shattered across the tiles. "I'm leaving!

Anyone else she might have tried to stop, but instead she stood there, trying to keep from crying; oh she knew she couldn't hide the tears rolling down her cheeks, but as long as she stayed quiet it was less humiliating. He stormed past her and the slamming of the front door made her flinch again. She kept her eyes focused on the kitchen sink's faucet for a few minutes as she tried to tell herself that it was 'no big deal' and finally wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist.

Her gut tightened and she wondered if it was heartache, if it was anger, if it was just adrenaline when a disturbing realisation hit her.

"The Rumble Truck," she breathed as she felt vibrations in her chest.

She had to find Walter—it wasn't safe to be outside the flat when the Rumble Truck came through.

"Walter," she called out, sure he was right outside the door fuming.

When she got no answer, she called out again.

"Walter, the Rumble Truck is coming. Get back inside." She muttered about receiving the silent treatment as she stormed over to the front door and threw it open. "Walter!"

She stood silently in the open doorway. Walter wasn't there. Astrid peeked her head out to look in the hallway.

"Walter?

She'd never upright during the intense frequency waves that were emitted by the Rumble Truck and it caused her to stagger as she started walking down the hallway, her hand resting on her holster. Where the hell was he? Had he really managed to get this far from the flat during the short amount of time? She balanced herself against the wall, her head reeling as she made her way towards the staircase.

"Walter!" she cried out. "Walter!"

She clutched at her ribs, the fluid in her eyes quaking. She had to find him quick before they blacked out, leaving them vulnerable to what waited outside the safety of the flat.

"Walter!" she screamed.

She closed her eyes, trying to find the railing with her hands. Down the street she could hear the Rumble Truck's speakers.

"…face down on the floor. Residents pregnant or disabled may lay on their right side. Residents should cover themselves with the government issued blanket you have been provided. Children under the age of eight should cover their ears. Residents with pacemakers should keep their left hand elevated on the back of their neck. All doors should be locked and remain locked. There is no need to be alarmed. All residents please lay face down on the floor. Residents pregnant or disabled…"


End file.
